In the Silence
by InoFan
Summary: 5xRelena. Wufei and Relena are at odds, but they might discover something together neither of them has ever had.
1. Chapter One

Note: This is another of my OTP for GW. I'm not too impressed with my writing for this fic, but since it holds a fond memory for me, I thought I'd bite the bullet and re-post it. In me now retarded free days, I won't be ripping my fanfiction down everytime I get a wild hair. 

She stood straight and confident, pride etched in the slim set of her shoulders, lessened in severity only by the demure clasp of her hands at her waist and the gentle curve of her lips. Hair the color of soft brown, woven with strands of honey, fell in a single curtain across her upper back in a near perfect line. It spoke of the careful attention given to appearance. 

The pale pink traveling suit clothing her figure was conservative and feminine, yet it did nothing to hide the fact that she was attractive, nor did it detract in any way from the mild authority she wore with ease. It was unrumpled, smooth, as if the act of flying had no impact on her at all. 

"Ma'am? The shuttle will set down shortly. May I ask you to take your seat?" 

She turned, all poise and grace, smiling with practiced ease now. It would never be apparent that she had stood in front of a mirror and smiled until she had perfected that, smiled until her facial muscles fairly quivered from fatigue. "Of course." 

Settling back into her seat, she fastened the safety strap across her lap and cast a half-curious glance at her traveling companion. Where her expression had been serene, his was stern and unyielding, revealing nothing of his thoughts as he read the book balanced in both hands. Eyes darker, it seemed, than the black of space itself shifted only slightly as they passed over words and his mouth remained in a firm, pressed line. He would, she knew, be content to say nothing the entire trip if she allowed it. 

"Enjoying your book?" 

"As much as I was when you asked me an hour ago," came the steady reply, his eyes never leaving the page they rested on. 

Rather than grow exasperated, she only smiled. "You might have found a part you didn't like by now." 

"Rest assured, that will not happen." 

She crossed her legs at the ankles. 

"That's good. I wouldn't want you to get bored." 

Finally, he lowered the book and regarded her with his usual intense stare, as if he were putting every part of himself into this one moment. 

"Boredom is a weakness I can ill-afford." 

"You _are_ bored," she stated with the calm of someone who is completely certain in her conclusion. 

Irritation crossed his features before he tucked it away. 

"I am not. But if you were looking for conversation, you will find none here." And to punctuate that, he went back to reading. 

She had no intentions of allowing him to retreat so easily and remain tucked safely away. Someone had once told her in passing that she possessed a gift for setting people at ease and getting them to talk regardless of how reluctant they felt. This one, however, was a great deal tougher than the others she had come up against. It was as if he wore a protective shield you could see through, but never penetrate. Being brought up short by it hurt, too, so she could see why few people tried after the first few falls. 

While not close, they had met numerous times over the years. It was not the sort of contact that prompted him to feel at ease around her, however. Their meetings had always been in a professional capacity, and even then, she had the feeling that he didn't entirely like her, or at the very least didn't approve. 

Her days of needing approval from someone other than herself, however, were over. Or at least, she hoped they were. There was that moment every once in a while, when she felt disconnected, or trapped, and found herself looking to someone else to pull her up again. Usually, it was only when she was weary and felt suffocated, cornered, and not in control of her own life. Everyone felt that way at some point; so she told herself she was only human to feel it too. 

Shifting her attention back to the man next to her, she pursued. "Why not? Am I really that terrible of company?" 

A short sigh issued before he looked at her again. 

"I simply want to read my book." 

"You've been reading since we boarded the shuttle," she pointed out. 

"Yes, and I want to continue doing so." 

Once again, he attempted to ignore her. 

This was hardly a social call. 

He was sent with strict instructions that he escort her safely to the stopover point on colony X5589F, and remain with her for the night. In the morning if weather permitted, he would then accompany her on another shuttle returning to Earth. Why he, of all people, when she had hoards of bodyguards, had not been divulged. 

As there was little reason for him to question that (it was a relatively short trip) and his superior could be a very difficult woman (one he grudgingly respected) when she so chose, he left it alone. That didn't mean, however, that he had to interact with her any more than was necessary. 

It wasn't that he didn't like her. 

At one time, he had not agreed with her ideals, true enough, but he had always respected her. She was a strong woman. She had proven time and again that she could stand on her own. For that alone, she had his esteem. 

He hadn't, and never would be, one for conversation simply for the sake of it. He said what he needed and left it at that. There wasn't any reason to drag it out until words simply became words with little meaning but to fill the space between silences. Sometimes, there was more to be heard in the silence than in the sound. 

"We've almost landed. Surely you could spare me a few moments out of your very busy schedule. I realize it might be taxing, but you might be better for it," and her expression was as serious as her tone, but her eyes glittered with unshared humor. 

"No." He said shortly and tried to capture the sentence he had been reading at her first interruption. 

"I was warned you were a difficult man." 

He only grunted, turning the page. 

Difficult yes, but not as difficult as another. 

Memory made her go still, eyes distant as she stared out the window, unseeing. But she recovered herself easily enough, leaving a half-wistful smile in the wake of memories treading the passages of time. It hurt to remember, but it filled her with a gentle sort of melancholy that tugged at those secret places hidden from prying eyes. It was, she supposed in a way, her reality check. Reminiscence reminded her of who she had been and where she had been so that she could appreciate what she had become. 

That didn't mean, however, that she had lost so much of the little girl it kept her from wishing now and then on the first star to grace the night sky. 

Wishes, however, were always second to responsibilities. 

Allowing a soft sigh to escape, she rested her head against her seat, content for now to leave him to his book. Forcing him to talk with her was only going to earn a healthy dose of nastiness, and only a fool asked to be made a fool of. 

To her surprise, he glanced at her. Irritation was there again in the flat press of his lips. Not that she had expected any less, or thought he would give her anymore. 

"You sound like a lovelorn schoolgirl. What troubles you?" And had he said it in a friendly manner rather than an arrogant demand, she might have felt inclined to answer him. 

As it was, she simply offered a measured glance that told him it was none of his concern, before turning back to her view of their slow descent. 

He shoved his bookmark between the pages and closed them together with a noticeable slap. There would be no chance of getting any reading done with her sitting next to him, asking endless questions and making distracting little noises. 

Pulling his glasses from his face with an impatient gesture, he secured them in an inner jacket pocket and gave her a disapproving glare she did not see. No, she now sat with her eyes closed, no doubt daydreaming about whatever it was women concerned themselves with. Had she been another, he might have been able to say. As it was, he didn't consider it any of his concern what troubled her or what didn't. He had only asked what he did because it seemed her audible expulsion of air asked for it. 

"Our destination," she murmured into his musings, and he thought she sounded disappointed. 

Casting her a glance, he asked, "You object to visiting your brother? I was told he would be meeting you in the morning." 

"No... No, it's the politics that will follow," but here, she shrugged as if it didn't bother her at all. 

The truth was actually something else entirely, but she wasn't about to admit that to him. She was not in the habit of spoiling well laid plans. As silly as it seemed, she was pleased to have been asked to be a part of them at all. Given her usually hectic schedule, one that was generally made out months in advance, she had to consider herself lucky as well to find a few days to herself. The same seemed to be the norm for most people in the working world, however, so she tried not to focus on it. 

"I feel like I'm interrupting his vacation," she added, when it seemed he was waiting for her to say more. 

"He made this decision to return on his own," he reminded her. 

"I know. But by my being there, he won't get a moments peace. My face is too well known," she added ruefully. 

"You should be used to it by now," he dismissed. 

She eyed him wryly. "This from someone who has no idea what it feels like." 

"My job heralds its own scrutiny," he replied evasively. Then added abruptly, "The people are grateful. You give them the illusion of hope. Accept their thanks gracefully." 

She laughed aloud. She couldn't help it. "Sound advice. But let _me_ assure you, I don't need your help. I'm used to this, remember?" 

He snorted. She wondered if anything could get him to smile, or even show vague amusement, any sign that there lurked a sense of humor inside that unnaturally serious person. 

The illusion of hope? She thought about his words. They weren't a surprise coming from a realist such as he presented himself to be. But, illusion or no, what that tiny word represented was enough to hold nations together, perhaps even worlds. Maybe, even reaching beyond both. 

It was never more evident to her than it became in the silence, when there were no crowds, no people to shield her from the stillness. In it, she found answers that often eluded her, and a peace that centered her. Whether that came from false hope, or something more real, didn't matter. She had learned long ago not to question everything. If it worked, it worked. 

Shaking her head, she was about to say something to that effect, when a flash of blue from the corner of her eye signaled the arrival of the flight attendant. Smiling, she looked to the pleasant woman instead. 

"Ma'am, sir? We're planning to set down now. Please make certain you are sitting and your straps are secure." 

Before he could inform her that the comment was ridiculous, considering they _were_ sitting, she hurried away, presumably to find her own seat. 

Casting a glance at his seatmate, he said precisely, and without any humor, "Sit down and buckle up." 

She shook her head, trying to determine if he had actually made a joke or was simply mocking the poor woman. "Don't be so critical. She's just doing her job." 

"Her observational skills are severely lacking," was all he said in reply. 

"And so are yours," she informed him, pointing to his lap. "You aren't buckled up." 

He wasn't. And he didn't appreciate the fact that she was laughing at him, albeit silently, either. 

"Thank you," he ground out stiffly, pride keeping him from immediately remedying that. 

Feeling quite smug, and more than a little satisfied, she leaned back, pretending not to notice when he strapped himself in. She was not above a bit of infantile victory now and then. And since she hadn't thrown it in his face, she thought she was entitled to it. After all, it wasn't everyday one could say they bested a man bent on being the epitome of perfection. 

And she found as they prepared for landing, she wasn't going to get another word out of him. Men were so obvious when they pouted. 

He walked next to her as they headed to the lobby to claim what luggage they themselves could carry. As he would only be staying one night, he packed lightly. Her trip would be lengthier. The rest of her luggage, however, would be shipped to the hotel compliments of the airline. 

While he was close enough that the fabric of their clothing brushed, the dark suit he wore in place of his usual uniform kept from drawing further attention to them. It wasn't overly obvious that he was her protection, nor was it obvious yet, who she was. People rushed around the spaceport with such detached hurry, he doubted they saw anything but their destination. 

"It's crowded," she remarked offhand. 

He made a vague sound in the back of his throat that might have been agreement. "It always is." 

That, she thought, was going to be the extent of that. He was still pouting. 

Leaving him to wallow in his wounded male pride and lick whatever imaginary wounds he might consider relevant, she pulled in as much of what was around her as she could. 

She hadn't exaggerated in the least when she mentioned it was crowded. As a matter of fact, that had probably been an understatement. There were people everywhere, expressing nearly every human emotion possible, and wearing nearly every style of clothing in existence. It wasn't unlike the crowds that gathered when she gave a speech. Only these people didn't have microphone after microphone ready to thrust in her face. 

Someone jostled her from the side, sending her stumbling into her traveling companion. He reached out to steady her automatically, cupping her elbow as he guided her through the ever growing throng, half certain they wanted to go in one direction, while the others fought to prove they had legitimate reason to go the opposite. Mildly irritated, because it was a parental gesture, one that reminded her of the role he was here to fulfill, she attempted to jerk away. Long fingers held fast, however, tightening along her forearm. 

Mindful of causing a scene, she deferred for now, fully planning to extract herself when the way was clear. Her entire life it had seemed as if someone was always protecting her in some way or another. Her younger self might have found this a romantic notion, but independence had asserted itself some time ago and she had no intentions of letting go of the little ways it had manifested. If it was simply in walking without having someone guide her, then it was. For that she wouldn't make apologies. 

He felt her strain against his hold again, and threw a slightly annoyed glance at the top of her head in response. She obviously didn't understand how easy it was to get lost in a place such as this. The crowd would gladly pull her in and push her along until he lost sight of her completely. Since he knew his touch wasn't repulsive and he wasn't attempting to insult her, he gathered she wasn't thinking about the consequences of their being separated. Which meant it was just as well _someone_ was. 

Someone screamed to his left. Pursing his lips, he needed no reminder of why he chose to avoid the majority of public places. He disliked the noise intensely. So close to a holiday, one in which he paid little attention, it was even worse. Everyone was scrambling madly to find their last minute gifts regardless of weather, heedless of price, and ignorant of long lines. That was the one thing this colony could say it had going for it. There was no snow. 

The moment their feet touched the sidewalk separating them from the spaceport doors, she deftly pulled her elbow out from under his hand. Letting her have her way, he made a point of slipping ahead of her and holding the door open. Most women would have been appreciative of the show of manners. She only stared at him for a moment as if trying to decide whether or not to go through, before finally making up her mind and stalking past him. He decided right then that he would let _her_ hold all the doors open from now on. 

Pausing on the carpet, she looked both ways, wondering where the baggage claim was located. Better yet, the exact one for their particular shuttle. To make matters simple, she would rather have carried what she could off and hailed a taxi to the hotel their reservations were made for. Protocol forbade it, however. She noted _he_ didn't have a problem with it. It was probably because he was used to the strict formalities that went with what seemed nearly every profession. He probably adhered to his own particular set. 

"This way," came the murmur behind her, and he reached out to gently shove the arch of her back. 

She doubted she needed to tell him what a contradiction he was. One moment he possessed manners, the next he didn't. She supposed she ought to be grateful for it. Few people forwent formality and addressed her as if she were on level. Standing on a pedestal could hurt when you finally fell, and it was certainly a lonely journey, both to the top _and_ the bottom. 

Casting him a quick glance, she reflected that he didn't seem to care one way or the other. A smile tugged at her lips when she realized it was actually a mark in his favor. 

There was little time to digest that however, because the thought was driven from her head as he looped an arm around her waist and jerked her to him so roughly, her neck snapped back and her head clipped him painfully under the chin. 

"Wufei, what in the world-" 

"Be quiet, Relena!" He hissed harshly, his breath a tense, warm snap next to her ear. 

And she saw why. 

Not far away, a man was screaming and waving a gun, a frightened, sobbing child tucked beneath his arm. 


	2. Chapter Two

His first instinct was to go for his gun. But that was overcome when reason told him it would only complicate matters further. That the man was unstable was clear enough, but outside of that he knew nothing. He had just walked unwittingly into a situation. His experience dictated he take control of and do something about it. From his quick perusal of those closest to the scene, it was apparent that he wasn't going to be allowed any other choice. 

Relena squirmed against him, reminding him that he had more than one thing to concern himself with. 

"You can put me down. I'm not in any danger, obviously." 

Her tone was careful, precise, the sort she would have used to placate a raging politician, but the slight tremble in her hands when she pushed at his told him different. Wufei had no other recourse but to admire that. He needed someone that could keep from falling apart. 

Of all the women to be stuck with in a hostage situation, she was one of the few he would have chosen because of that. Which was laughable, really, considering situations such as this hardly allowed you to prepare for who your partner would be. If that were the case, he would rather have Sally Po. His years as a Preventer taught him to appreciate her quick thinking and immediate retaliation. 

"Wufei?" 

He hadn't thought when he saw the danger, only reacted. The truth was, they weren't even that close yet. It embarrassed him that he had automatically protected her, and had done it as if death were just a touch away. Never mind that doing so was his assignment. Having your pride bruised was never a pleasant experience, and he was no more immune than the next man. 

The capability of the human mind to process thoughts in the passage of a single breath never ceased to amaze him. 

Lips thinning, irritation directed inward, he set her down, refusing to comment, but forced to be content enough with her next to him and within sight. His focus needed to be here, and on what it was exactly he would do. The first step would always be to figure out what had happened to provoke this. Most hostage situations, he had learned, stemmed from something. The loss of a job, a divorce, a death... As much information as he could glean would give him a better success rate, and so he didn't hesitate to grasp the arm of the nearest person backing past them. 

Frightened already, the man reared back and stared up at him with wide, frantic eyes. 

In Relena's opinion, the stern, uncompromising expression on Wufei's face did nothing to ease the panic. Mindful of her tense, churning stomach and the tightness in her chest, she forced herself to turn away from the terrified cries of the child and fastened a confidence invoking smile on her face. To counteract Wufei's firm grip she gently touched the man's arm, drawing his attention to her. 

The quick, dark look Wufei shot her told her how little he appreciated her interference. At this point, she was hardly going to concern herself with that. Their priority would be getting that child away and safe. She could hardly stand to listen to the sobs, torn from somewhere deep inside, a place where fear was all the baby knew and all she breathed. The man's occasional scream for someone to move away drowned them out, but only for a second. Instead he paced, and as he did, her anxiety grew. She was not an expert, but it seemed he was searching for something. She was afraid that if he didn't find it, he was going to kill first the baby, and then himself. 

Her eyes darted around for a moment. First this man, and then she would placate the crowd before they became hysterical and made things worse. And because she could actively be doing something, the next breath of air she forced out was a bit more steady. 

"What happened?" She asked carefully, gently. 

The man swallowed hard, his throat jumping with the motion. "He-the man-he grabbed the baby. I mean, after he took the gun from the waistband of his pants. He started screaming about making God pay because it wasn't fair. He said it wasn't fair she should die... And that kid should live, so-" And the man rattled on, his words running together and hitching until Relena had to pull him away from Wufei and sit him down, telling him to put his head between his legs and take deep lung filling breaths of air. 

Wufei watched her, appreciated her skill for the second he had to do so, and then turned his attention back to the man. 

The child was still crying, but the man didn't appear to hear her. He was lost in a world of his own making, muttering to himself and occasionally waving the gun, his face contorted rage filled with a misery and a pain Wufei could only guess at. But pity was not something he allowed. No, because in that man's place, it would have pushed him over the edge. He knew... He had been here before. Only in his hands, had been a power capable of destroying more than a single life. 

Relena looked up to him from where she knelt. "Wufei... You have to do something." Her expression was earnest, her eyes troubled, but her face smooth. Is this what she did all of the time? Kept her feelings at bay so she could set others at ease? His respect for her renewed. At any other of their meetings, he had always viewed her efforts as an unnecessary waste of time. No more... 

"I'll help them." And her words, the unspoken ones, were that she put her trust in him to help the baby. 

Because he was a Preventer? Did it matter? 

Raising his hands, giving it no further thought, he began the slow walk forward. 

Whether it was because they were drawn to her, or because they had no where else they could go, the people began gathering around Relena. Everyone was afraid to leave for fear of being shot, but at the same time she could tell they wanted to run. She moved back and forth between each, trying to soothe them with a calm she did not feel, and words that stuck in her throat before she forced them past her lips. 

It felt false, unreal, as if it were happening to another person, not herself. This wasn't the first time she had found herself here, but it was the first a life other than her own was in danger. Funny how that lack of control made her more helpless. 

He hadn't noticed Wufei's approach yet. The baby did, however, and her little arms reached out for a person she thought was safer than the man who held her. Reaching for a stranger... His jaw hurt from clenching it tightly, and it was more difficult than he had expected to push away the raw flash of emotions that stripped at his insides. This wasn't like any of the other hostage negotiations; normally, Sally handled those because his lack of patience and, yes, admittedly tact made him the least likely candidate for the front man. And never before, had there been children... 

"Will he kill her?" 

The bald question jerked Relena from where her eyes were trained on Wufei. She regarded the woman before her blankly. There was such trust in her eyes, as if she expected whatever Relena told her to be the absolute truth. Leveled by that, she found she couldn't say anything. Her throat closed off, fear made her muscles lax, weak, and she wanted to give into the mindless terror these people must be feeling. But then, Wufei turned back and his dark, serious eyes caught hers. Bolstered by that one look for reasons she couldn't explain, Relena felt a renewed strength flood through her. 

Touching the woman's shoulder, she answered softly, "I don't know. But my friend will do everything he can to make sure that doesn't happen." 

And then the woman crumpled into her arms, the force of the strain broken as she related to Relena that the baby was hers. 

Wufei didn't know why he looked back. Relena wasn't in any kind of danger, and his attention had to be on what was in front of him. It wasn't because he drew courage from her apparent lack of doubt. Wufei felt no fear. It wasn't because her beauty stood out sharply among everyone around her. Wufei had no use for attraction, especially not in this instance. It wasn't because he needed reassurance. Wufei had complete confidence. 

It didn't matter that he had no form of protection, that no sensible person would have gone into this without a lead-lined vest. He didn't see anyone else here ready to volunteer, and the lack elected him the only one capable. Never mind that his chest hurt, or that his heartbeat was abnormally loud. Form a clinical standpoint, he knew this was all normal. Sally, from her limited medical knowledge, while never having made it completely through medical school, had explained the entire process of flight-or-fight to him. In this instance, fighting was the only option he had. 

The gun swung up at chest level, and dilated, fixed pupils fastened on him. The breaths were forced from his lungs in great heaves, his nostrils flaring with the effort, as his pale, pasty face with its heavily smudged eyes told Wufei the man was on the edge. He most likely hadn't slept or eaten for days, and there was no way of knowing what would set him off, what would snap the tenuous hold he had on himself, so that possibly everyone close enough to die would until he ran out of bullets. 

The pressure was intense. It crushed him, worked to steal his resolve. Anger, annoyance kept it at bay. He had never run from anything in his life, and he would not start now. Not when so many depended on him, and his own life hung in the balance. But as he raised his hands higher, he was ever mindful of the dampness of his shirt under the dark blazer, the blunt press of metal against his hip, and the stifling heat that seemed to come from within. 

"Don't move!" He snapped, squeezing the child's arm so that the baby cried out. 

"I won't." And to affirm it, Wufei remained still, hands unmoving as he held the man's gaze. 

Somehow, he had to get the control away from the man. 

In obvious distraction, the man reached up to rub his nose with the barrel of the gun. It spoke of a lack of concentration, and an unfamiliarity with guns. That didn't mean, however, that he would miss should he aim at the child, or himself. Or, Wufei admitted, if the man aimed at him. 

"What do you want?" He demanded finally, and Wufei noted how his clothing fairly hung from him. 

"My name is Wufei." 

The man blinked, caught off guard. "So? What the hell do I care?" 

Perspiration clung to the back of his neck, lined his forehead in a fine, transparent sheen. As great a the urge to rub at it was, Wufei ignored it. He couldn't afford to put his hands down. It could be taken as a threat. A rapport needed to be established before he could take any liberties. 

"I thought you might like knowing to whom you are speaking," he answered neutrally, wishing the baby wouldn't look at him. He wasn't a savior. He was only one man, and this was a gamble that could easily end in anyone's death. 

The man laughed, a harsh, ill-used rasp in the back of his throat. "You speak funny... Like a professor or something. My name is David," and then his eyes narrowed, as if he realized what he had done by giving that away willingly. 

Wufei found the gun on him once more as David jerked uncertainly, a nervous habit developed from the lack of care given his body, or if only to keep himself focused. Perhaps even to keep himself awake. He looked as if he were about to drop at any moment. They would not be so blessed, however, Wufei knew. 

"David. Why don't you hand me the child? Then we can talk. This isn't about the child. It's about-" 

The gun waved in the air, cut him off. "No! The woman already tried that. Stop distracting me. I can't think," here he paused, hitting himself in the forehead with the barrel of his gun. "I haven't slept in... I can't remember when. Ever since my Bethany died." Sorrow twisted his face, lining it, making him look ages older. 

Taking a surreptitious breath to steady himself, Wufei held on to his frayed nerves, reigning the temper in, the one that wanted to snatch the gun from the man and render him incapable of thinking ever again. 

"Bethany was your daughter?" He tried, after he was certain he could continue sounding impartial. 

David nodded. "My Bethany..." 

He looked to the subdued child in his arms. Wufei's eyes shifted as well, not liking how silent and lethargic the baby looked, as if she had given up altogether the hope of ever being returned to arms that comforted, not hurt. 

"God took her from me. It's not fair. God took her, but he let all the other kids live." 

"How will harming this child bring your Bethany back?" The man's expression flattened out, and while Wufei kept using names to draw in his confidence, he was afraid he had said the wrong thing. 

"I don't care!" David burst out, shaking the baby, jerking her from her silence so that she whimpered a little. 

His hands itched to grab the child and pull her away. 

"David. I'm going to lower my hands. Is that all right?" 

Waving the gun, his expression once again unfocused and glazed, David nodded. Mindful of his unstable mental status, Wufei did so slowly, his eyes never leaving the man in front of him. His fingers flexed briefly, and he found himself wishing he could use them. This slow, careful method tore at him. He wanted to end it, and quickly. 

Squeezing the woman's hand next to her, whose name she had discovered was Melissa, Relena cast an anxious glance to where Wufei and the cause of this stood. She wished there was more she could say to reassure the child's mother, having no real understanding of what the fretful woman must be going through. Aside from vague murmurings of support, however, there was little she could say. She wasn't going to lie, but neither was she going to lay the worst out for Melissa to face. No, she could only sit here, like the rest of them, hoping that Wufei could talk the man down. 

It wasn't enough, but it was going to have to be. She was needed here, to keep these people calm while he did something his position had no doubt thrown his way before. At least she hoped. He looked so calm and assured, as if he was not the least bit concerned with the how it would all turn out. She had to admire that, as she was certain the way she felt was written all over her face, no matter how hard she tried to hide it from everyone around her. Panicking wouldn't do her any more good than it would them. 

"Miss. Relena..." Someone started to her left. "It's so quiet over there." 

She smiled reassuringly at the elder man, reaching out to pat his hand so cold from fear. But she couldn't offer him an answer. She had no way of knowing what the silence meant anymore than he did. 

"Do you believe in God?" David asked suddenly, startling Wufei, who had only begun to realize how tight his muscles were, and how much his neck ached from holding it stiffly. 

"I don't know." He answered truthfully. Once, he might have believed, but since that time he had seen too much to say for certain. People made their own way, true enough, but a part of him found it hard to believe a loving God would allow things such as this to happen to begin with. Perhaps that was naive, or seeing the world in terms of one color, but anger or refusal didn't make the feelings go away. No more than the troubling ones had with this man had. 

David seemed unconcerned with this. "Do you think God has my Bethany?" 

What he wanted to do, was snap at the man, call him an ignorant who was asking the wrong questions of the wrong man. Instead, he said, "If God takes anyone, it would be children." 

Unbalanced again, David nodded absently. "Bethany was good. She's with God." 

The silence. Wufei couldn't stand it any more than he could baby's cries. That had pulled at him, but this filled him with fear. He had heard Sally say people could die from shock. Would he get David to release the baby only to find she had died because it took him too long? 

"Dammit," he murmured, before he could stop himself, frustrated. A sharp glance at David, however, told him the other man was too lost within himself to have heard. 

"David, do you want this baby to go with God too?" He tried, looking for any way to get the man's focus on letting the baby go. 

He blinked owlishly, staring at Wufei in a curious way young children often did. 

"With God?" He glanced at the baby. "I'm not going to be with God. I don't believe. I'm a sinner! And Bethany is gone," he lamented, his voice twisting on a sob. 

"You haven't done anything wrong, David," Wufei attempted to soothe. 

"Yes I have!" David raged, a wild look replacing the vacant one. 

"All right. I'm not trying to argue with you, David." 

He shook his head. "Quit doing that. Quit calling me by my name. Go away! I want you to go away!" 

The hand that held the gun was trembling noticeably now, and Wufei found his gaze drawn there. 

It was then that a scream sounded somewhere nearby and a man ran from a door marked with the symbol denoting it as a bathroom. He was talking quickly, his words rushing together, but Wufei could make enough from it that he understood someone was dead. 

"See?" David told him morosely. "I told you... I didn't mean to. He wouldn't listen. No one understands." 

His tone had taken on a dreamy, detached quality now. Urgency pounded through Wufei like a litany. Someone else was already dead. This man was plenty capable of killing anyone now, there was no longer any denying that. What choice did he have? To stand here and talk circles around him without making any headway? Or to strike and hope that he did it quickly enough to stop the man before he did something else he couldn't take back? It was how he would have handled it. He did everything with force. And it was clear that wasn't enough. For the first time, Wufei felt a different sort of uncertainty, and it was not welcomed. 

Relena wanted to let go of the hysterical little laugh the bubbled up into her throat. Someone was dead. She would have thought the war, seeing so much death result from that, would have prepared her more. Yet, this was different. It wasn't a war, just a sick, pathetic man grasping for a reason to live, but struggling to let go of it all. He wasn't harmless any longer. Not that he had been to begin with, only that it seemed as if he wasn't completely serious about hurting anyone, only that he wanted recognition of his pain, someone to listen to how he felt. Now, she knew that had been wrong. She worried for the baby, and she worried for Wufei. 

Yet, she pushed it all aside to accept the terror stricken man into their circle of grief, and put all of her energy into calming him down. 

"You see?" David whispered. 

He had to get the gun. Somehow, he had to get close enough to take the gun away. Now, while David was distracted. So he moved forward carefully, inch by painful inch, hoping that he wouldn't be noticed. His luck wasn't holding, however. David caught on to what he was doing, and flung the gun back up, his expression suddenly sharp. 

"Don't. I'll kill you." 

The words tore through Relena, rang out clearly in the space dividing them. 

Falling completely still, Wufei tensed. Helplessness ate away at him. Was this what Sally went through? Was it worth it to her, to risk her life to save a person not worth saving? He had never asked. His focus had always been on the end result, not on how she felt after it was over. Interesting, that he would think of this now, that he would have an insight he didn't care for. Amazing what you considered when it was possible you could die. 

"David, it isn't time for the child to be with God yet," he choked out, finding it ridiculous to speak of God when he had no connection with the one this man claimed to follow. 

David smiled suddenly. A vacant, gaunt smile filled with nothingness. 

"I'm tired." 

Sighing a little, as if the fight had drained out of him, taking with it the resolve that had been holding him together, he let the baby drop onto his hip. 

Wufei's pulse jumped. "David-" 

"I'm tired." 

From where she sat, Relena froze. Was he going to shoot the baby? 

Tense, Wufei felt his muscles bunching, waiting to be used if he needed to move quickly. David only extended his arm, however, the baby with it, and motioned for Wufei to take her. Alarmed by this, because it wasn't at all what he had expected, Wufei still wasted no time darting in and snatching the baby. The small child curled into him, wrapping her thin arms around his neck and clinging. The feeling jolted him, it was so unlike anything he had ever experienced before. But he tucked it away to explore later, because this wasn't over. 

"Thank you, David. Can I please have the gun now?" It had never occurred to him that using formality, being polite, could feel so wrong. Every part of him raged now that he had the baby, to dress the man down. It was only sheer will and effort, all that seemed to be holding _him_ together anymore, that kept him from doing it. That, and what was at risk here. 

Shaking his head, David smiled abjectly. It was spiritless, devoid of everything, as if he were already gone. As if he were already gone... 

Realization snapped through him. "David-" And before he could finish, or move, the gun shifted. 

A shot rang out, clear and definitive; the baby cried, resounding and deafening in his ear; and the world tilted out of focus, as he wavered and fell. 


	3. Chapter Three

The baby was cradled in his arms and blood warm on his face when Wufei hit his knees, legs weak from relief, disbelief, and something of a mix in between. He couldn't force his eyes away from David, lying limp and broken in a rapidly expanding prison of the same blood that marked him. The baby was alive, but the troubled man was not. Despite his efforts he had been unable to salvage the situation further. Sally Po had never lost a victim, much less a kidnapper. He had. The first time he attempted to talk anyone down, he lost the person. And everyone in here would have the imprint of his death forever embedded in their minds. 

When Relena reached him, it was to gently take the baby from him and place her in the arms of her weeping mother. Then, she was kneeling in front of him, concern evident in her eyes. Concern for him, which he didn't need. Smoothing his face out, he nodded once to her before forcing himself to his feet. His legs wobbled faintly, an irritating revelation of his as of yet unsteady state. Now would certainly not be the time to fall apart. 

"Wufei..." 

His jaw tightened reflexively. He did _not_ need her pity. She could save it for the baby, or the man who lay dead not even three feet away. 

"We will need to wait now, as will all those who witnessed this," he told her evenly, giving no indication that he had heard the invitation to weaken where she could see it. 

Relena looked to the huddle of people murmuring amongst themselves. They looked too shocked yet to even move from where they had gathered earlier. Her compassion went out to them, because now they would have to endure the endless queries of the authorities. Nevertheless, there was nothing that could be done about it. It had to happen while it was still easy for them to recall. She could understand, but that did not mean she liked it. 

Yet, what bothered her most was Wufei's apparent lack of sympathy. That, and the way he had deliberately shut her out. She didn't expect him to consider her a close friend, but she had at least thought they could share this. The dismay, the shock, the vivid reality of it that would never leave. He had saved the child, but lost the man, and if for only a second, she had seen that torment reflected in his eyes. 

Looking at him now, the proud set of his shoulders, the elegant lift of his chin, and the lack of inflection on his face, she knew he would admit to nothing. He would pretend as if it didn't bother him, and there was little choice but to go along with that. She didn't know him well enough to pry without the outcome offending him, or possibly even hurting him. If he allowed anything to touch him that closely... 

Some of what she was thinking must have shown on her face, for Wufei misread it by replying, "There isn't another option." 

Touching the tips of her fingers to her forehead and holding in a sigh, she nodded. "I know." 

That was all. No fight, no probe. 

Mistrusting that, Wufei continued to watch her. She pulled her hand away, and all he could see was quiet resignation and a firm determination that came from a place it couldn't be beaten back into. Her expression relaxed, and she offered him a practiced smile. Slightly put off by that, he shifted his gaze from her face, touching briefly on the mother and child before coming back to her. 

What was he supposed to make of that, her obvious ability to pull her emotions in and become the collected woman she was now? A woman. Even before this, he had thought of her as a girl playing at a woman's political games, with her all-encompassing smiles and light questions meant to lay a foundation for companionable friendship, nothing more. But she wasn't. She knew exactly what she was doing, and what was more, she did it well. 

He was disconcerted by this realization for no discernable reason. He couldn't explain the way his view shifted, how he looked at her and saw a completely different person. So he didn't try. He pushed it away and found something else to occupy his mind. It wasn't as if there was a lack of things pulling at his attention. He was very good at forgetting what he didn't want to explore. 

Relena couldn't shake the feeling that Wufei was looking at her as if she were some sort of puzzle to take apart and reassemble into a fashion that made more sense. Maybe she didn't fit into any of the carefully made grooves he had created, but it wasn't as if it mattered to her. There were more important things to be taken care of. 

It didn't matter that she felt like sitting alone and letting her hurt over this spill out. This time was no different from the others. People needed her to be strong and so she would. She would smile and reassure them of things she could really have no assurance of at all. 

Wufei was the last to leave the private office the authorities had secured for questioning, and he was the longest one in. Left with nothing to do but wait, Relena had settled across the hall, forcing herself to stand though her legs wanted desperately to give out on her. When the door opened, her head jerked up to see him. His tie was loosened to a sloppy, limp stretch of cloth trailing listlessly across the dark blazer draped over his arms. In his face there was nothing for her to read. If his eyes were drawn just the slightest bit tighter at the corners, it had to be the lighting. And if his mouth was set thinner than usual, it had to be her imagination. 

"They're letting us go to our hotel, and leave in the morning as was planned," he told her, as he unthinkingly took her by the elbow to lead her down the hall. His tone was flat, closed, like the slam of a door hiding whatever might be behind the words. 

Rather than comment, she only nodded. It wasn't anything she didn't already know. The officer who had questioned her had said as much as he exchanged her for Wufei. Out of deference for their positions, they were allowing them to return to Earth come morning. They had the addresses and numbers they needed should any more questions arise. Usually, treatment such as this bothered her. In this case, she was grateful for it. She only wanted to leave now. 

Wufei had the presence of mind to grab their bags as they passed back through the lobby. Neither looked toward the blocked off area where a forensic team still worked diligently to gather what information they needed. It was clear enough to both of them. They didn't need science to tell them what their eyes had seen and their minds would not forget. 

Relena tried to find amusement in the fact that her luggage had no doubt made it to the hotel before her, but she couldn't muster the urge past weariness. She only wanted to take a shower, as if that would wash away everything, and crawl into a bed where she could sleep a few short hours. That would be a while in coming, however, especially since she intended to offer that privilege to Wufei first. Unless he got them separate rooms. At this moment, she was really beyond caring so long as she had a place she could go to where she could shed the illusion of poise she wore like second skin. 

He looked at Relena once before they slid into a waiting taxi. After giving the destination in a short, abrupt tone that spoke of how little tolerance he held, he leaned back and closed his eyes. He wanted to rub at them in an attempt to rid them of the grainy feel, but he didn't. He left his hands lying in his lap, and recalled what it felt like to be on the other side of the table. 

The officers hadn't been particularly disagreeable. He was well aware that they could have made the situation even more intolerable than it already was. It was only his own insecurity. Some felt that the Preventers were simply another measure of control wrought by former Alliance officers and retired Gundam Pilots that had no right asserting themselves that way. So he had imagined that the officers looked at him, took his failure for what it was, and confirmed that. 

"You did what you could, Wufei. When people _want_ to die, I've learned there is nothing you can do to keep them from it." 

Relena's soft comment prompted him to open his eyes and regard her silently. 

"I don't need your pity, Relena," he informed her quietly. 

She looked at him then, a blatant study of his face that didn't bother to hide its intent. "I don't imagine you do." 

It wasn't a compliment. It was more like she found him lacking in sense, foolish because he wouldn't accept her rationalizing what happened. The plain truth was, it was _his_ responsibility. He took control of the situation, intent on ending it with everyone leaving that building alive, and failed. He was not, however, going to argue that with her. 

It was more than frustrating. It was a paralyzing drowning he could rail against all he wanted, but it was only like treading water against a current stronger than he was. As it had been when he watched his colony die, as it had been when he held his dying wife in his arms, willing her to live. 

"What time is it?" Relena asked without preamble, pulling him away from his memories. 

"After midnight." 

She nodded, her shoulders lowering as if she had permission to be human now. "No wonder I'm so tired." 

There was more to it than that. He didn't know if she was trying to convince herself or both of them. The sudden vulnerability in the wake of her calm unsettled him. He wasn't good with comfort. He didn't know how to tell her what she needed to hear because it would be a lie. Had this been Sally Po he would have ridiculed her, would have told her how weak and useless she was being. This was Relena, and he couldn't bring himself to tell her the same. 

The interior of the taxi was small enough that she could have reached out and touched him. It was the widening gap between them that made the distance feel endless. There was no excuse for disappointment then, no reason why it should bother her that he would rather forget than share. It was probably better to let it go. No, she knew it was. But knowing and doing where two different things. 

Drawing a hand across her eyes, she told herself that she was simply tired. The time since landing and leaving had been a long, draining process and even the former Queen of the World had to bend to silly human emotions now and then. 

Snorting in self-derision and self-inflicted amusement, she finally gave in to the weariness and sank into the cushioned seat. Let Wufei make of that what he would. She couldn't be perfectly poised all of the time. 

Relena was weary. He was weary. They were all weary. Falling into sleep would be only a temporary escape, however. Tomorrow he would have to stand up under another interrogation from his superior. He knew what she would say. That he was reckless, that he had shoved his way into a situation he was not fully trained for and had no business taking control of. He would tell her it was true, but that given a choice, he would do the same. What else could he do? 

The taxi slowed, and Relena let Wufei take care of the tab. She paid little attention to the lobby as they walked to the front desk, offered no smile or greeting to the people they passed, and made no attempt to initiate a conversation with Wufei. She let him relay their reservations to the desk clerk as well, not caring that she was allowing him to take care of everything. At this point, she was tired and only wanted to get to her room. Tomorrow she would prove that she was quite capable of being an adult with no help from him. 

It turned out they had adjoining rooms, and that their luggage was already in them. It didn't look as if she needed to worry about allowing Wufei the first shower after all. Before, it hadn't mattered. Now she thought she would gladly have fought him for the right to stand under a numbing hot spray. 

Wufei said nothing to her in the elevator and she was grateful. She didn't feel like being kind, or making an attempt to draw him out. It surprised her how much she wanted to be alone. She needed the excuse to be completely selfish now and she couldn't do that if he was with her. 

Rather than give her the card key, Wufei opened the door himself and stepped inside. While she watched, he swept the room, going so far as to look in the shower and check under the bed. She wanted to laugh and tell him he was being ridiculous, that no one could possibly know what room she was in, but it caught in her throat and she said nothing instead. 

Nodding to her once, he unlocked the door separating their rooms. "Don't lock this." 

Relena turned her back on him. In her mind, he was already gone. 

He did the same with his room. It wasn't as much precaution as it was simply something to do. Finding nothing, expecting nothing, he looked to the bed only to realize he wasn't tired now. Sleep was far away. He was alone in this room and it seemed too big to him. He had wanted to be by himself, but now he was wondering if that was a mistake. Ridiculous. He needed nothing from anyone, least of all Relena Darlian. 

To keep from thinking about it, possibly from changing his mind, he forced himself to lay out the clothing and toiletries he would need for tomorrow. It was only one night, but it was going to be a very long one. 

Mechanically, Relena reached down and removed her shoes. Out of habit, she placed them at the foot of her bed and then only stood there, staring at the neatly made spread. She could unpack and find a nightgown. She could gather her shampoo and soap to take the shower she wanted so badly. She did neither, however. Instead, she sank onto the mattress and stared at the carpet. 

It began to blur. Her skin burned and her hands shook when she pressed them to her face. Her fingers came away damp. She stared at them with an odd sort of detachment, aware on another level that her entire body had begun to tremble. Why was she crying? The baby lived. Perhaps the man hadn't deserved death, but it was his choice. Nothing could change that now, least of all weeping. 

The door between their rooms opened. 

She wanted to tell him to go away. Instead, she said, "It won't stop. I don't know why, it just won't." 

He stared at her, unmoving, and she thought she saw a ripples of fear break the surface of his smooth expression. Chang Wufei, Preventer, ex-Gundam pilot, was afraid of something as harmless as a woman's tears? It struck her then as humorous, and she laughed. Only it came out as a strangled half-sob, and it was as if that one single hitch gave permission for more to come, until she was outright sobbing and couldn't seem to stop. 

Clutching her stomach, she tried to motion him away. He was witnessing her humiliation, and she doubted he would ever let her forget it. She had lost it, proven she was nothing but a weak-willed women after how well she had held up under pressure. Funny, that she would break down now, with nothing threatening her and nothing to fear. 

"Dammit, woman," she heard him hiss, and the bed dipped next to her. 

"Go away," she ordered him, the words coming out so strangled she could hardly understand them herself. 

Wufei had never felt so helpless in all his entire life. Relena had turned into a weeping mess of a woman, and he didn't know the first thing about offering comfort. It was damned humbling to find that he was more terrified of listening to her cry than he had been facing David. She had done so well, been so calm throughout it all, that he had been certain she could handle it. 

It was obvious she wasn't. And he wanted to shame her into stopping, but he couldn't say the words. 

He reached out hesitantly, touching her arm. She jerked away, curling inward and huddling over, falling into a rocking motion that was both pitiful and wrenching to watch. 

"Leave me alone!" He barely understood her. The meaning was clear enough, however, and he wanted nothing more than to obey them. Being a bastard had never bothered him before. Had this been Sally, he would have told her to get a grip on herself and then walked away. 

Instead, he took a breath and reached for her again, this time tightening his hold when she would have pulled away. 

It wasn't working. She couldn't pull herself back together, and Wufei's clumsy attempt at comfort wasn't helping. He wasn't supposed to care that she was hurting; he was supposed to tell her how useless she was being and then leave. It was apparent she was far from understanding him. But right now she only wanted him to go away. 

He didn't leave. She found herself in the circle of his arms, pinned between his thighs, her cheek half resting beneath his chin. 

"Stop fighting me," he snapped, and she felt the muscles in his arms tense where she gripped them. 

This was stupid of him. She didn't want him here, and he was being a fool by not listening. A smarter man would have taken that and run. Perhaps he was lacking in intelligence then, because he only held her tighter rather than letting her go. 

This was Wufei. She couldn't let him help her like this. Yet she could feel herself relaxing, turning into the heat of his body, the solid comfort he offered. He was here. She hadn't asked for him to be; he had made his own choice. And she didn't have to feel guilty for taking advantage of that. She didn't. 

Exhaustion overtook her in a single move. All the fight drained from her so that she lay limp against him. Unprepared for it, he was almost driven off balance. Now what? The crying had given way to hiccups, and looking down at her, he could see her eyes were closed. 

"I told you to go away," she mumbled between hiccups. 

He sighed. "I don't take orders from you." 

No, she thought sleepily, he would take orders from very few people. 

"You're sleepy." 

"I'm not weak, Wufei. I don't know why I cried." 

Silence. Then, "I didn't say you were weak, Relena." 

"But you were thinking it," she yawned. 

It almost made him want to laugh. Out of all the things he _had_ been thinking, that wasn't one of them. 

Relena was surprised to find she felt safe here, comforted, and most of all, that she didn't want him to leave. She kept waiting for him to make a disparaging comment, or for herself to remember where they were, who they were, and push him away. But neither happened. No rebuke was forthcoming; his arms didn't leave her, they lowered her to the bed, stirring panic. Panic that left her when he only settled her against him. 

His eyes were dark and unreadable when she lifted her own to meet them. 

"Got to sleep. I don't want you to have nightmares and wake everyone up by screaming," he told her roughly. 

"I can't," she countered, fighting the heaviness in her eyelids, the lethargy in her limbs. It wasn't a good idea to sleep with him next to her. Only because he was a man, not because she didn't trust him. 

"Be quiet." 

She sighed. "I don't think I like you very much at times, Wufei." 

He smiled faintly at that. 

Relena found that he looked less severe when he did that, almost pleasant. 

She was tired, she realized... And it couldn't hurt to sleep for just a few hours. 

Wufei watched her eyes close, watched as she relaxed into sleep, a part of him foolishly wondering if it was only because he was here. 

"Don't be stupid," he muttered, brushing her hair from her face. She looked more like the girl she had once been. That was deceiving, however, and he would do better to remember that. 

Shifting, he tried to get comfortable. With her laying on his arm, it was beginning to fall asleep. But he could not deny that this was pleasant. He was not going to lie to himself. 

He hadn't held a woman this way since Meiran, and with her, it had only been that one time, while she lay dying. He hadn't been any better at offering her what she needed then than he was now with Relena. Still, he stayed. She was sleeping now, and he could leave. But he didn't. He closed his eyes instead, and slept with her. 


	4. Chapter Four

It was warm here. 

Instinctively, Relena turned into the heat. 

Reaching over her shoulder to pull the blanket higher, she was startled to realize that the weight across her torso wasn't a blanket. It was an arm. Unused to having anyone sleeping next to her, she slid her hand lower and cupped the shirt-clad elbow. This was a man's arm, of that there was no doubt. Reality invaded then, stealing the warmth and reminding her of how she came to be in a bed with a man with whom she certainly wasn't on intimate terms. 

By rule she wasn't a coward, but she wished with nearly everything that when she opened her eyes he would still be asleep. It would be easier to disentangle herself and slip into the bathroom before she faced him. It was humbling, and more than a little embarrassing to realize that she would rather head off a room filled with angry representatives than witness the look on Wufei's face when it came to him that he had fallen asleep in the same bed as her. 

Ruefully, she conceded as well, that she wanted at least a night and a morning to pull herself together because of how she had fallen apart in front of him. Years before even, when she had been younger and had depended on Heero so much for her strength, she had never gone to pieces on him. Some pride was there even in the most bleak of moments, balm on a wound, or steel in a backbone. Right now, it was neither. It was raw and stinging and she only wanted to be alone. 

Issuing a short sigh, she told herself the only thing that would hide her was covering her head with a sheet, not closing her eyes. Beside that, the most important thing here was not her injured feelings. It was a dead man and emotionally scarred people. 

Soon there would be preparations for a press conference where she would offer her sympathy and propose they work to strengthen security so that walking into air terminals, grocery stores, even day cares with a gun wasn't so easy. After, she would make it happen. That was what she did. 

That was balm on a wound. Sitting idly by had never been right for her. Not when youth had taken her recklessly down paths better left alone, and certainly not now, when position gave her the ammunition to do what needed to be done. 

Avoidance wasn't something she allowed either, and she was using the gloss to hide behind so that being human wouldn't enter into it. Much like, she thought with sudden clarity as she opened her eyes, Wufei. 

He was watching her. 

A quick, startled thrill leapt into her throat, where it throbbed painfully. Rather than look away as she wanted, she returned his silent study, finding something uneasy in it. His face was still, and his eyes dark, but steady with a sort of intense fix that made her want to squirm. It was as if he were taking her apart and piecing her back together again. Not unlike the way he had looked at her before. Only in this, there was something different she couldn't grasp. 

Every part of him warned against not getting up and leaving her now that it was clear she was capable of being alone. They were close enough that he could feel the press of her breasts against his chest, the curve of her hip turned into his, and the slim length of her leg anchored beneath him. It was unbearably warm here, enough that he could feel the beginnings of sweat slip down his spine. He could smell her hair. Her fingers were still around his elbow, and he could feel the heat of them through the fabric. He wasn't shallow, but he was human, and parts of his body did not always act as he instructed them to. 

Nothing had ever been so lowering as the knowledge that he could control everything except his desire. Some would consider it proof of their virility, but Wufei often found it a nuisance. Especially now. Relena wasn't a woman he could afford to feel this way for. It was unexpected, yes, but he could find many ways to explain it away. The intensity of the situation they had found themselves in not so long ago, the fact that she was undeniably attractive and lying so close to him, or simply that he had offered her comfort and she had accepted. 

Some part of him challenged that, taunted. He had never woken up to find himself nearly in pain because he wanted his wife. Yet, he had been young and they had never slept in the same bed. Sally Po had never raised even a passing interest in him. He considered her, however, as a friend and thought of her as almost another man. Relena certainly was not a man. Their proximity could testify to that. 

"You didn't have to stay." 

Her quiet comment jerked him to the present. 

"You were distraught," he answered dismissively, working furiously to put his thoughts back together. He should have left before she woke up. He never should have watched her while she slept, guilty in the knowledge that his regard for her had taken another path entirely. 

Something flashed in her eyes. Deceptively mild, she answered evenly, "I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself, thank you." 

"You weren't when I found you crying," he challenged, finding this conversation easier to focus on. 

Relena felt her face heat at the mention of the way he had found her. Wufei had never claimed to have manners, and the more she was around him the less she wondered if he possessed any. She was humiliated enough without having him steal the last scrap of dignity from her. And if relief was there as anger filled the strange air that had developed between them, she didn't consider it. 

"Anyone with manners would have knocked before entering," she fired back, her tone gaining strength. Debate was as much a part of her world as eating and sleeping. 

"The door was open." 

Relena wasn't certain whether it was the truth in the statement, or the way he delivered it as if it ended the argument that bothered her more. 

"That still didn't give you the right to enter," she countered with less conviction, resisting the strong urge to be childish and push him away. 

It had to be that she was tired. She never would have let him bait her like this otherwise. 

It hardly helped the situation that he merely grunted and eyed her down the length of his nose like a patiently superior professor. Rather, it made her want to laugh. The absurdity of lying here with him, in a darkened room, arguing like a couple of teenagers was not lost on her now. In retrospect, it was probably a normal reaction to lack of sleep and stress. 

"I think you had better go now, Wufei," but she ruined it by smiling, and shifting. 

At the sudden widening of her eyes and the small "oh", he issued a short curse and was not at all pleased to find himself coloring under her gaze. Arguing with her should have curbed his need, not heightened it. 

"It doesn't mean anything," he snapped out tersely, even less pleased by the strain in his tone. 

The sharp flash of heat hit quickly. The sensitivity it left in its wake was almost frightening in its severity. Every part of her was suddenly alert and _alive_ in a way she hadn't known possible. As if the slightest brush of his fingers on her skin would send a shock of jumbled signals to her already confused mind. She may not have been experienced in this sort of thing, but she knew answering need when she felt it; and understood exactly what it meant. 

The temper in response to his admission came as a surprise because of it. 

"It doesn't mean anything?" She repeated slowly. What did he mean, that any hundreds of women could produce the same response? 

"That is what I said," he answered, something close to caution lurking around the edge. 

"Oh. I see. This is normal for you. It's only because I happen to be a warm body lying next to you?" Was that her, sounding so incensed? 

Wufei didn't understand her reaction. He had expected it to be what she wanted to hear, given her appalled reaction to the discovery of his very obvious arousal. She seemed upset that he claimed it was nothing, rather than relieved. The woman didn't make sense. 

"Don't be foolish, Relena." 

Foolish? Not only was that patronizing, but it was complete avoidance. 

"Foolish? Why is it foolish for me to want to know if this is just your normal reaction to all women?" 

"Dammit, what are you driving at?" He exploded, his patience shredded. Being in this position was not comfortable. It was painful. And her prolonging it for whatever ridiculous reason she had was not making it any better. 

"I want to know if you want me!" And as soon as the words left her mouth, she flushed so hot, she was certain he could see it even in the dark. 

"Relena..." His tone was suddenly quiet, subdued, and the way he was looking at her... She shivered and nearly pulled away. 

He shouldn't be feeling this for her. He knew it. Knowing that changed nothing, however, and he wasn't in the habit of lying. 

"Yes." 

She didn't know why her mouth felt dry, or why it was that her body turned to him of its own volition when his fingers pressed into the small of her back. She almost couldn't stand the way he was looking at her, as if he could strip away everything with only his eyes. It was not unlike that short moment when fear first gripped you, and your legs went weak and your arms limp. She ached everywhere. She wanted to arch into him, she wanted him to touch her, she wanted him to complete her. Most of all, she wanted to run away. 

It felt too right, too natural. Men and women were meant to fit together, she knew, it wasn't any big secret. It wasn't as if they were the first, or the last. 

"You're afraid," he murmured. Leaving was the only option. He had no right to take this from her. 

"No," she stunned him by answering steadily, "you are." 

He almost snapped at her. The knowledge that she was right was all that held him back. It was the reason this was not going to happen. 

"I'm leaving, Relena. It's wrong of me to stay." 

"How like a man, to make the decision as if there weren't two involved." 

The more he was with her, the less he understood. This had implications he didn't need, and was certain she could not afford. It would never be a matter of spending the night with her and then returning to life like normal. Not for him. If she could, then it was only another reason why this was wrong. He took few things lightly, least of all sex. Simply because his hormones dictated it, did not mean he had to follow. 

"This isn't a simple matter, Relena, and I'll thank you not to treat it as such," he reprimanded. 

She laughed in his face. "Don't patronize me, Wufei. I'm not a child." 

Relena prayed he didn't hear how loudly her heart was hammering, or that he didn't see past her pretense of calm. Maybe she didn't know what she was doing. Maybe she was scared. Maybe she should have taken his reluctance for someone who wasn't ready to commit, not that he wanted to protect her. She didn't think he would hurt her. She trusted him. Maybe, she was a fool after all. 

"No," he agreed, and it was a compliment, not an observation. 

He wanted to touch her. There wasn't a time he could think of that he had ever wanted it as badly as this. The smooth skin at the base of her throat was exposed. He could see her pulse fluttering, betraying her, and he wanted to press his lips there, bury himself in the fragrance of her hair, feel her skin slick against his own. It took everything he had not to. She had all but invited him to love her, and only a fool turned an invitation like that aside. 

"Then I will be a fool," he whispered, closing his eyes. 

"What?" He heard her ask. 

Instead of answering, he pulled away from her. Before she could protest, he was on his feet, back turned. 

"It's better if I leave." 

She rose to her elbows, watched him disappear past the door that separated their rooms, and wished she could grab something and throw it at the space where he had stood. He hadn't asked her what she wanted. Only left her burning and expected her to accept it. Accept that he had rejected her so easily. 

It hurt. 

"What did you expect? You practically threw yourself at him, like you threw yourself at Heero, and made yourself look like a whore," she taunted, face hot, eyes stinging. 

It would have been easier to give into self pity and curl up on the bed, wetting the pillow with her tears. Instead, she forced herself to get up, ignoring the ache that sat low in her stomach, and went to take the shower she should have taken hours ago. 

Breathing deeply, Wufei slumped against the closed door, pressing his hand briefly to the erection that still strained against the confines of his pants. There were dozens of reason why he could have walked back into the room, and dozens why he shouldn't. 

"Dammit... if I did the right thing, then why do I feel so sick?" He muttered, rubbing at his eyes. 

The clock across the room read 4:00 AM. He doubted even after he stood under a cold shower for a half an hour and effectively rid himself of his arousal, that he would be able to sleep. Not with Relena laying a thin wall away. Not when his thoughts weren't likely to quiet. So it was hardly remarkable he lay in bed a short hour later reading a book where the words blurred together, forming a gibberish he made little effort to decipher. 

Allowing himself the luxury of a sigh, he looked to the ceiling. 

"You're laughing, aren't you Meiran?" He knew she was. This was just the sort of thing she would have found amusing. His failure always had been an endless source for her. 

His eyes swept shut. 

Wufei knew he had walked from Relena's room a coward. He hadn't looked at her face because he had been afraid of what he would find there. Hurt would have made him stay, and it would have been a mistake. They barely knew one another, and sleeping together was a far cry from having a slightly friendly conversation on a shuttle. There was no doubt he wanted her, but that wasn't enough. She wasn't in a position to have an affair. Not when he was certain she had never had one before. 

It was better she hate him for refusing, than she hate him for accepting. 

"You're rationalizing," he told himself, irritated. 

He was. It didn't change the fact, however, that taking advantage of Relena's inexperience would have meant more responsibility than he needed. 

It was better this way. 

Relena sat in the circle of her blankets, braiding her damp hair. The lights were low, and her things were draped carelessly across a chair, but she wasn't going to worry about straightening them now. It ridiculous to feel this bruised. It wasn't as if she hadn't been rejected before. Never on this basic of a level, but it was the same. Either Wufei didn't want her as much as he claimed, or her lack of experience scared him away. 

Had it been so obvious? 

Twisting the rubber band on the end of her hair, she snapped it once in vague irritation. 

It wasn't her fault she had never had the opportunity to have sex. Her life had been one whirlwind of responsibility since the end of the war. Responsibility she had willingly accepted, but that had gotten in the way of her social life. The few dates she went on hadn't produced much more than a passing interest. There were far more important things in life than having sex just for the sake of having it. 

Groaning, she threw herself back on her pillow. Was that what he had thought? That she wanted to sleep with him just to sleep with him? If that had been the case, she would have slept with the last man she dated, or the one before that. Wufei was infuriating, but there was something about him that pulled at her. Or maybe it was just plain, physical attraction. Still... 

Maybe her regard for him had changed when she watched him calmly trying to talk the terrorist down, or when, despite his discomfort, he had held her while she cried. Or perhaps it was that he didn't treat her any differently from the other people he knew. There was no deference to her position, no indication that she was any better than anyone else. That, was what had been missing from the previous dates. And probably a large reason why the thought of being with those men had turned her off. 

She laughed. She couldn't help it. "You make no sense, Relena. You want a man because he'll treat you badly, not because he'll treat you like a princess." 

It didn't matter. After tomorrow they would go back to their respective worlds and she doubted she would see him again for a long while. 

Tomorrow, she would keep her poise and treat him as a friend. 

That was, if she could fall asleep soon enough for tomorrow to come. 

Wufei looked cross when he appeared in the doorway between their rooms the next morning after making a point of knocking loudly. In the process of separating her clean clothing from her dirty clothing, Relena raised her head and offered him a practiced smile. It felt strained around the edges, and probably no more effective, but she doubted he noticed. He looked as if he hadn't slept any more than she had. There was little satisfaction in that. 

"Are you ready?" He demanded impatiently. 

"Almost." She returned calmly. 

"We have to make the taxi by 11:00." 

"Yes, I know." 

If it was possible, her lack of reaction annoyed him more than if she had been cool with him. Instead, she was acting as if the night before hadn't happened at all, leaving him wondering if he wasn't managing it as well as he had thought. Not, he reminded himself, that it mattered. It was better that she was handling this like an adult because it made it easier to get past. After he saw her to her destination and they became busy with their usual lives, none of it would even touch them again. 

It was hardly as if they had actually slept together. 

"I'm ready." 

Nodding curtly, he slipped his one bag over his shoulder and grasped the larger of hers. The last one was extremely heavy. 

Raising an eyebrow, he inquired, "Did you pack your life into this one?" 

She offered him a half-smile. "Work." 

"You take it with you when you vacation?" 

"Don't you?" 

Yes, he did. His work went with him everywhere. It always did, as last night had so aptly displayed. That they would understand each other on this meant more than he had expected. 

"Yes, I do." 

"Well..." And she trailed off, accepting his unspoken offer of allowing her to leave the room first. 

She was wearing ivory slacks and a pink sweater. They were her colors, he noted, that mixture of cool and soft. It gave her aristocracy and then softened the edges. And had last night not taken place, he never would have noticed. 

Relena saw what she didn't want to. The way the white of his shirt stood on in sharp contrast to the olive of his skin. The way his slacks molded over a trim waist and slim hips. The way he smelled when he walked next to her, a hint of cologne eclipsed by that darker scent that belonged to him only. It was the one that lingered on her pillows. 

"This trip won't take as long," he noted almost to himself as they boarded the elevator. 

"I'm sure it pleases you to note that." 

He looked straight at her then, in that way he had of seeing one thing to the exclusion of all else. She felt a thrill sweep down her back. 

Then, completely throwing her off guard, he smiled. "Think that if you want." 

The tiny elevator suddenly wasn't big enough, and she had to fight the urge to settle into the corner furthest from him. 

"I don't understand you, Wufei," she murmured, watching him. 

He shrugged. "You don't need to." 

He didn't want her to. 

"No, I probably don't," she agreed in a way that had his eyes narrowing. 

Yes, the shorter the trip the better for them both. 


	5. Chapter Five

When a blur of energy and braid accosted her soon after entering the hotel, swung her around, and then held her at arm's length for examination, Relena wasn't certain whether to laugh or shove him away. No formalities for Duo Maxwell. She strongly suspected he knew all about the ways to behave in polite society and deliberately overlooked every one. The casual way he was dressed, in jeans and a black shirt, the tails of which hung to the tops of his thighs, spoke as much, and made him seem out of place in the elegance of the foyer. But his exuberance and easy manner were exactly what she needed after another shuttle ride with Wufei. 

"Lookin' good, Miss. Relena," he teased, winking. 

Shaking her head, unable to keep from smiling, she returned, "And you're a flirt, Duo Maxwell." 

"Guilty," he admitted, raising his hand, and then turning to Wufei in an abrupt change of focus that nearly made her dizzy just watching him. 

He made a half-hearted lunge, as if he intended to sweep Wufei up into an embrace similar to the one he greeted her with. 

"Don't even think about it, Maxwell." He shifted the bags he was carrying. "What are you doing here?" 

Rolling his eyes, Duo screwed his face up into a mockery of human expression. "Nice to see you too, Wufei." 

Banking a sigh, Wufei reached for patience he was certain he did not possess. The shuttle ride had been long, strained, and silent. Relena had dug into her briefcase full of work and immersed herself in paper after paper, while he had taken up the place he left off in his book. The tension he thought would ease with sleep had not. He had wanted to watch her, trace her with his eyes, imagine what it would be like to touch her skin. The awareness made him angry, the anger made him irritable, and the irritation made him unfit for company. 

Especially the company of Duo Maxwell. 

They began walking, Duo leaving them with little choice but to follow. Wufei's preference would have been to leave him behind. They hadn't seen one another in little over a year, and it was apparent nothing about the undisciplined, obnoxiously loud ex-pilot had changed. 

"You have yet to answer my question," he pointed out. 

"Maybe I don't want to," Duo returned cheekily, deftly squiring Relena's bags away from her. Wufei had gotten ahead of them both. 

Relena wanted to grab them back. It left her arms empty, with nothing to do, and her bereft of a shield. Attempting to pretend that nothing had happened between her and Wufei wasn't working. She kept remembering the way he had looked at her. He hadn't since. His eyes barely touched her now, and when they did, they were guarded again, as if he were certain she would make weapons of what she found beneath. She suddenly wished fervently that she had found herself attracted to someone with an easier personality, like Duo. 

Looking at him, however, left her feeling nothing but sisterly affection. While Wufei... She watched him as he moved, with subtle grace and ease, a quiet strength that was simplistic and strangely beautiful. Different from any other man. But then, Wufei was. 

"I have no use for your games," Wufei said curtly as Duo caught up with him. His tone more intolerant, he added, "Where are we going?" 

"God, you're a sourpuss today," Duo imparted with a grin, as he sailed past Wufei. 

Duo was running figurative circles around Wufei, and Relena was so amused by it that she let the evidence of her mirth slip between her fingers. 

Wufei threw her an annoyed glance over his shoulder and then wished he hadn't. She was beautiful in her laughter, free. He didn't want, or need to notice that. 

Since last night, however, he found himself noticing a great many things about her he hadn't bothered to before. Like the way her skin furrowed between her brows when she was working at something particularly difficult, or how she had a habit of tugging on her hair in absent thought. 

It wasn't until the object of his thoughts walked by him, that Wufei realized he had completely stopped as he studied her. 

Drawing Relena close as they halted in front of two massive, oak doors, Duo searched her face, his own suddenly serious. "Are you all right?" 

Absorbing the sudden change, she nodded. "Thank you." 

Wufei reached them. 

Straightening, Duo said louder, "Are you sure? Because I mean, you spent an entire night in Wufei's company." 

The comment did not have its desired effect. Both eyes riveted to each other as Wufei stiffened and Relena went still. Perplexed by the exchange, Duo shrugged carelessly and set Relena's bags down, throwing the doors open. 

He ushered them both inside, and Wufei paused at what he found there. Sally Po, Lady Une, Quatre Winner, Trowa Barton and his sister... Even Lucrezia Noin and Zechs Merquise. 

"What is this?" He demanded, gaze stabbing into Duo. 

"Don't be so surly, Wufei." It was Sally Po, forcing him set the bags aside as she threaded her arm through his. 

Relena watched them, biting back the sudden, unwelcome surge of dislike at the contact. 

Wufei neatly disentangled himself. "Answer me, Po." A habit he had gotten into after countless missions where first names held no importance. 

Sally snorted. "Maybe if you call me Sally, I'll consider it." 

He stared at her. 

"All right, all right. I should have known not even _you_ would be grateful for a party thrown in your honor." 

Startled, he frowned. "What are you talking about? My birthday-" 

"It's not for your birthday. It's to celebrate seven years as a Preventer." 

He was pleased, he realized. It was unwelcome attention, but that they would do this for him... Go to such elaborate lengths... 

"I suppose this was your idea." 

"Yes, so don't complain. I asked you to accompany Relena around too, so that we could get rid of you. I know you. You would have found out otherwise." 

At the mention of Relena, Wufei looked back and found her flanked by her brother and Noin. 

"So, aren't you going to thank me?" Sally wanted to know, as she shoved a glass of something in his hand. 

"No. And I don't drink alcohol." 

She rolled her eyes. "It's tea, you ungrateful bore. Ice tea." 

Zechs was talking about something, but Relena found herself too distracted to listen completely. Her eyes kept wanting to stray to Wufei and Sally, taking in the easy camaraderie that existed between them. For all his denial, she could tell Wufei was pleased. If he wasn't, he would have walked away. As he had found it so easy to do to her. 

He sipped cautiously at it. 

"It won't poison you, though the temptation was nearly too much for me to handle," Sally quipped, half-turning when Lady Une approached. 

"Wufei. I want to talk to you later." 

He stiffened, expression glossing over, going smooth, his eyes twin reflections of opaque obsidian as he carefully lowered the glass and nodded once, hard. Satisfied, Lady Une moved on to greet Relena. He didn't watch her leave. He looked at Sally, waiting. But the woman only offered him a smile, told him to drink up, and turned her back to him. 

The relief was so sharp, he felt ashamed and grateful for it all at once. 

Duo managed to drag both Quatre and Trowa over, forcing him to converse with them for a time. He found it difficult to concentrate, however, when Relena was in his line of sight and the fact that Sally went out of her way for him wouldn't leave him alone. No on had ever done anything for him. His parents had forced a marriage on him he hadn't wanted, but had obeyed because of tradition. Fighting, the war, had been his path only because the wife he hadn't wanted had died in his arms. 

Only Sally... His expression softened some when he looked to her. She had offered him a place here in the Preventers, given him a reason to be. So he had repaid her by earning it, giving every part of himself to the job, as he had done with the war, as he had done with his studies. It was the only way he knew to be. You earned what was yours, or there was no honor in having it. 

Quatre laughed, an honest sound cutting into his thoughts. "You're distracted, Wufei." Then, his hand was on Wufei's arm as Duo wandered off and Trowa went to refill his glass. "Are you all right? You seem at war with yourself." 

Wufei almost laughed at the choice of words, but there would have been no humor to the act. 

"I'm fine, Quatre." 

"I heard what happened. If you need someone to talk to, I'll be here all night." 

Another night spent with Relena in close proximity. Surely, the Gods were having a laugh at his expense. 

"No, I'm fine thank you," he repeated, unable to bring himself to brush Quatre off abruptly. But he saw David again, felt the unwanted burden of failure, of guilt. 

Quatre smiled. "It's all right, Wufei." 

Before Wufei could respond, Quatre was looking past his shoulder. "It seems you have someone else waiting," and he slipped away. 

He knew who it was even before he turned. He could smell the faint scent of her perfume. Lilies, he thought. They clung to her skin as if they were meant to be there. 

"Relena." 

How he managed to say her name in a way that both thrilled and annoyed her, she couldn't figure out. 

"You knew." 

She nodded. "I wanted to help." 

He made a vague sound, intent on his tea for a moment before his eyes came back to her. 

"My brother and Lucrezia are getting married," she said suddenly, filling the silence. 

She wasn't certain why she told him. He could probably care less. Maybe it was that she wanted an excuse to be here, near him. 

He only stared at her. 

Sighing, she gave up, turning away, and froze. There, in the doorway, was Heero. Seven years. She hadn't seen him for seven years. It was strange how little, and how much time changed a person. She would have known him had she seen him on the street, but there was something different in the way he carried himself. More confidence, she thought. 

Duo nearly leapt on him. Heero gave him a few, brief words, before he left the doorway and his eyes cut to her. There was still that intensity. Not unlike the way Wufei looked at her. There was something, a small flutter in the pit of her stomach, and then it faded, bringing with it a clenching awareness. Wufei had stepped closer to her, and she could smell the scent that clung to his skin. That faint hint of cinnamon. Her body wanted to lean into his. She was beginning to get angry with herself. 

The shortness must have been in her face, because Heero paused a few feet from reaching her. 

It was ridiculous. Foolish. Idiotic. He no more owned Relena, than she did him. Yet he wanted to reach out, place his hand on her arm, inform Yuy in a way he was certain the man would understand that Relena was not his to look at the way he was now. The frustration ate at him, and he didn't understand it. He had comforted her, held her, wanted her, nothing more. So why was it he felt this way? 

Forcing herself to relax, she schooled her face into a smile. Her difficulties with Wufei weren't going to make Heero feel unwelcome. She would see to that. 

"What are you doing here?" 

Appalled, Relena darted Wufei a quick glare. What was wrong with him? 

Heero matched his gaze, impassive and unrevealing. "I was invited." 

"It's good to see you, Heero," Relena greeted quickly, to cover for Wufei's rudeness. 

Breathless. She sounded like a breathless schoolgirl. Disgusted, Wufei spun on his heel and stalked away. He wasn't going to stand around and watch her make a fool of herself over Yuy. 

Grimacing, Relena murmured, her eyes trailing after Wufei," I'm sorry. I don't know what's wrong with him." 

"Relena." His eyes searched her face as she turned back. 

She inclined her head, forgetting Wufei for now. "I'm surprised to see you." 

He nodded once. "I know." 

She smiled. Heero hadn't changed that much. His replies were still to the point, with little to no elaboration. 

"How have you been?" She asked, sipping on her iced tea. 

"Good." 

"I'm glad. It's nice to know you're getting on well. But this party isn't the only reason you're here, is it?" 

There was a faint upturn to his lips before he answered. "No. I heard about the shooting and wanted to see if you were all right." 

Relena was surprised to find she wasn't touched by that. "I don't need you to save me, Heero. I'm not that little girl anymore." 

"No," and his eyes strayed to Wufei. "He's watching you." 

Color flooded her cheeks. "I don't care." 

Heero further stunned her by giving a short bark of laughter. 

Wufei heard it. Everyone did. His hand tightening around the half-full glass of tea, Wufei forced himself to look away. He didn't give a damn why Yuy was here. It was none of his business. 

"Enjoy yourself. You look too uptight." 

"Go away, Maxwell." 

"You know, Wufei, you're about as transparent as a sheet of glass. You keep looking at her like that, and everyone in the room is going to get the point." 

Dark, displeased eyes snapped to an amused face. "I don't know what you mean." 

He laughed. "The hell you don't. You could cut the sexual tension between you two with a knife." 

"You go too far," Wufei ground out stiffly. 

"You bet your ass I do," and without a further word, he sauntered away. 

So now it was obvious to everyone else. Rubbing at the tension gathering in the back of his neck, Wufei held tightly to his glass. He wanted nothing more than to hurl it to the floor and stalk out of the room. 

Relena wasn't certain whether she was relieved, or disappointed to find she felt nothing when Heero took her elbow and steered her in another direction. Loving him would be no more easier than loving Wufei. Why it was that she had to be attracted to difficult men, she couldn't say. Perhaps it was the challenge. In which case, she thought it was something she could now do without. Even as she told herself she needed to find a nice man like Quatre to settle down with, she knew it would never be enough. 

"Where are we going?" She asked Heero, slightly alarmed at her proximity to Wufei. 

"You're going to talk to Wufei." 

"I have nothing to say to him," she countered, trying to twist away. 

Heero only grunted, deposited her in front of the man she was now determined to avoid, and walked away. 

"Well," Relena started, determined not to stand in infantile silence since Heero had left her little choice. 

He looked to her, held her with his eyes. "How is Heero?" 

"Fine." I don't care, all I can see is you, she wanted to add. Obstinate, thickheaded Wufei who wouldn't love her because he was afraid. And suddenly, she was fed up with the entire matter and thought the whole thing was ridiculous. 

"You know Wufei," she leaned in, her expression cutting, her tone low and furious, "I think you're a coward. You're afraid to love me because you can't take being responsible for another person. That's a stupid reason not to care. And you're a stupid man," she added, spinning away from him before he could formulate a response. 

He stared after her, stunned, hurt, angry. How dare she take something like this so lightly. But his fingers tightened on the glass again to the point he thought he could hear the protest, because that was exactly what she had accused him of doing. She called him a coward. She said he was afraid. She told him he was stupid. In that moment, with her face filled with temper and her words sparing him of nothing, she reminded him of Meiran. And somewhere, he felt a stab of pain. 

Caring meant opening yourself up to loss. So he was a coward for being cautious. That changed nothing. He would be damned if he let her push him into anything simply because she had insulted him. 

But it stung. And he found he couldn't look at her. Because he was afraid to feel. 

The hall was dim when Wufei stepped out into it, intent on finding the pool and using it to swim laps until his muscles burned. He couldn't sleep, and he was damn tired of lying in his room staring at the ceiling. 

Snapping the towel in his hand over his shoulder, he entered the elevator, expression uninviting as he slammed his thumb on the button marked for the pool room. Since it was late, the ride down was short enough. No one stopped him to get on, and he considered all others fortunate. He doubted he would have let them. 

As promised, somewhere in the vicinity of midnight (when the party had finally died down, no thanks to Duo's enthusiasm), Wufei had met with Lady Une in the make-shift office of her hotel room and had gone over everything he told the authorities. He hadn't cared for the way she had looked at him while he was talking, but then he rarely did. At least he knew her to be fair enough to withhold judgment until he was finished. 

As he had expected, she had both commended and condemned him. She had told him that while she admired his quick thinking, and cool-headed handling of the situation, he should have backed off and waited until someone better trained could take over. To which he had replied that the baby could have been dead by then, and possibly more people than just the man in the bathroom. He had gone on to say that he would have made the same decision given the same set of circumstances. 

Lady Une had surprised him then by smiling. Since she didn't want to lose him from the team, she now intended to see that he got the necessary training that Sally Po had been put through. Apparently the fact that he saved the baby counted for something. 

Grinding his teeth in frustration, Wufei all but slammed himself into the wall of the elevator. No one should have died. He didn't care how close to perfectionism that sounded. These were lives he was talking about. He understood well what it was to take lives. 

The doors opened suddenly, directly into the pool room. He stepped onto the cement, mindful of the sharp tang of chlorine and the slight heat from the water. Indoor pools were a luxury few places could afford. His own apartment complex had an outdoor pool covered over for the duration of the winter. It had been a while since he had been swimming. He was looking forward to it, he realized, as he removed his robe and slippers, placing them along with his towel on a nearby chair. 

When he reached the edge, he was brought up short. There was already someone in the pool. Irritated, because he wanted to be alone, he watched as the suit clad person swam laps with sure, careful strokes. Her hair was tucked up under a cap, and the suit was a functional piece of navy blue cloth. He only hoped she would be finished soon and go away. 

So he moved back, settled into a chair and waited, eyes drawn to the form making perfect circles. 

She was done some odd laps later. Climbing from the pool, she pulled the cap from her head and shook her hair out. Long, light brown hair framing a familiar face. He gripped the edges of the chair once, jaw tightening, before he was up and meeting her half-way. 

Relena saw him. Her breath caught, and it was an effort to drag her eyes from his chest and meet his displeased gaze. Smooth, perfectly formed, darkly colored skin. He was beautiful, with his torso and arms that could have been sculpted from clay. 

"What are you doing out here?" 

"Swimming," she answered, trying not to take offense to his accusatory tone. 

For someone so small, she had long legs. Lovely legs, smoothing into curved hips and a slim waist. Elegant arms, a graceful neck, and delicately rounded shoulders. The lights reflected from the drops of water clinging to her skin, and it was enough to make him forget his resentment over her being here. He only wanted to touch her now; his hands fairly shook with the need. 

"You shouldn't be out here by yourself," he heard himself say. 

"Oh yes, I'm in so much danger," she returned smartly. He was moving toward her. She could feel her pulse rising, the heat that started at the very center of her, leaving her limbs weak. He was looking at her like that again. As if she had nothing on at all. 

It didn't take him but a moment. He reached her, pulled her into his arms, and groaned when their skin touched, both hot, hers slick. Her arms went around his neck and the last thing he saw before his lips were on hers, was her eyes, accepting, wanting. 

Dragging her as close to him as he could, he splayed his hand at the small of her back and eased her bottom lip into his mouth, sucking at it, running his tongue along it, swallowing her soft moan of contentment when her own mouth opened and her tongue met his. His other hand slid into her hair, fingers slipping through the soft strands, winding them around him like silk. 

Her skin was on fire, and her hips were cradling him, nothing but thin fabric separating them. She thought he tasted like the faint spice of tea, before his lips left hers and met the column of her throat where it connected to her shoulder. 

Everything he did, everywhere he touched her left her wanting more. She couldn't get any closer to him, so she bent her head to give him more access, liking the shivers and the stabs of pleasure when he drew he tongue across her skin. 

He didn't want to stop. He had known it would be like this. He took her lips again, unable to get enough of the feel, the taste of her. For once, he had forgotten where he was, and wasn't interested in remembering. Need was like a hard fisted knot in his stomach and he didn't think he could stand another night of being this aroused. 

"More," she demanded, when he would have found some other place that needed kissing. 

He thought he laughed. Or maybe it was her. 


	6. Chapter Six

Voices. Past the feel of Relena's fingers on his skin, the warmth of her lips, and the exquisitely painful need, he could hear voices. He nearly didn't have the will to wrench away and orient himself. It was like pulling your head above water after starving for air for so long. The sight of her flushed face, her confusion as she blinked eyes so clear, so direct they nearly cut into a place he hadn't allowed anyone to step in so long, he felt like forgetting, like drowning in her and never surfacing again. 

He _felt_ when he touched her, but wanting wasn't enough. It would never be enough. There was no basis for anything to be built on physical need. It was a shallow reaction of the body, something overcome with distraction or stimulation to the contrary, such as a stinging cold shower. He damned himself for losing control, for coming to her and giving what could never be taken back. Whatever might have been, was spoiled. He would forever remember the taste of her in his mouth, the feel of her skin, so soft, like water on silk. And he would hate both what he had, and couldn't have. 

"Forgive me," he murmured. "I have treated you like a common prostitute." 

Flinching as though struck, Relena jerked herself from the circle of his arms. It was easy. He wasn't holding her any longer. There was no heat in his eyes, only that endless, cold sheen of black, hiding everything and offering nothing. She knew he felt. No man that touched like that, kissed like that, had ice in his veins. But he could hurt. She had never met a person that knew exactly what weapons to use and where to strike so that it stung the most. 

Torn between humiliation, shame, and the stirring of anger, Relena reacted. She slapped him across the face. 

When he looked to her, his eyes were glittering with unspent temper and banked desire. His lips were thinned, and his cheek bore the mottled red-white of the blow. 

"I still don't see why we had to take the stairs," a protesting voice issued from the corridor behind them. 

"A lover of peace such as yourself resorting to violence?" Wufei intoned coolly. 

"It's exercise. It's better for you than taking the elevator," a softer voice intoned with quiet authority. 

The color was slowly draining from her face. She struggled to remain impassive. She had dealt with people far more hostile than he was. "That was uncalled for, Wufei." 

"Since when did you turn into such a health nut?" The first shot back, a faint hitch to his breathing. 

"Was it?" Wufei returned, rebuffing her, pushing her words aside. 

"Hm. Consider yourself lucky I was willing to swim at such a late hour," the other dismissed. 

"You know it was. I didn't start this." Relena hated the way it hurt. 

"Hey you know me, the party never stops," the more animated of the two noted with exorbitant cheer. 

Wufei's eyes narrowed. So she thought to remind him of his weakness. "You did." 

Relena saw them as they left the stairwell. Wufei heard them. Neither made any effort to acknowledge that. There were things to be settled here between them. For now, the world outside this might as well not exist. 

"Forgive me. It's weak to cry, isn't it Wufei? It's weak to feel, to want, to need. That's fine. You live your life believing that. I don't need... I don't _want_ someone who is afraid to live," she threw the words at him like poison, knowing they were cruel, but wanting him to bleed as she was bleeding. 

He laughed. A stark, harsh sound with no mirth. "You take for granted I even want you." 

And that was it. He saw it in the way she shattered before she closed her eyes. When she opened them, there was nothing. She was once again that self-possessed woman, projecting composure and poise few could rival. He hated himself for the pain that had been there, even as a part of him wanted her to hurt. Like Meiran. Shrugging her accusations away, ignoring her had never been enough. It hadn't until he wounded her, until he made her bleed. 

Duo stopped just short of reaching them, a greeting dying on his lips when he saw the way they were staring at one another. Heero was not far after, and then Quatre and Trowa. Quatre hated the pain he heard in the silence. 

"Are we interrupting something?" Duo finally ventured, his tone erring on the side of caution for once. 

Wufei's reply was so precise, so final, it drove into Relena like the sharp point of a needle. "No." 

"No," she agreed on a breath, "we're finished here." And with dignity, she gathered up her things and walked, not ran, to the elevator. 

Jaw taut, Wufei refused to watch her. Everything was tight inside, as if the slightest touch would unravel it and take him with it. There was no elation, no relief. Only loathing so intense, it was a wonder he could stand himself. He wasn't 14 any longer, and Relena wasn't Meiran. Ten years, and nothing had changed. He was still running from his feelings, letting fear rule him, and losing because of it. 

There was the shift of fabric behind him. 

His hand snapped up. "Say nothing." 

Without sparing them another glance, he grabbed his robe and stalked in the opposite direction of Relena. He took the stairs. 

She didn't cry. Considering, she was proud of herself. There were things of more importance in her life than whether or not a man as deliberately cruel as Wufei wanted her. It hurt. It undermined her confidence, left her feeling stripped and raw, less of a woman. Rejection of any kind would do that to you. So she would do what she always did, push past the difficulty and keep going. 

In the morning, forgoing the need for bodyguards, she left. Not caring what anyone made of that, feeling as if she had been watched over too long, she boarded the shuttle and went home. She didn't say good-bye to Wufei, or attempt to leave him any sort of message. To her way of thinking, they said everything left to be said the night before. There was no point in pursuing a man that thought she was a woman without moral, and who was too afraid to return what she had to offer. She had spent too many years doing the same with Heero. 

Sighing, she slipped her shoes off at the door and stepped over the pile of mail waiting for her. It would keep until later. So would the blinking messages on her answering machine, and the unfolded laundry on the couch. Had anyone known she lived here alone, without any sort of help, doing her own laundry, her own cleaning, and her own cooking they might have laughed, or shook their heads in disbelief. 

She had grown up with servants. They were a nice luxury, but for an apartment as small as this one, it was better if she took care of it herself. There simply wasn't room for very many people. 

She had done it on purpose. This was her haven away from everything. Hers, and hers alone. As selfish as it sounded, she didn't intend to share it with anyone. Least of all someone intending to do what she was perfectly capable of herself. 

Before sinking onto the sofa cushions she started the coffee machine, a habit she had picked up after early mornings became regular. It was getting to the point where she was dependant upon it. Sometime soon maybe, when she had the willpower, she intended to wean herself from the addiction. For now, she would let it have its way while she half-heartedly folded laundry and thought about the press conference scheduled for tomorrow. She would need more coffee if she intended to stay up well past midnight writing the speech; now would definitely not be the moment to go noble and give it up. 

There would be plenty of time to think of what she would say, how she would propose a change, and then how she would work toward getting the President to agree after her first cup. That would take time, patience, and no small amount of work on her part. The weight of the responsibility rarely beat out the excitement. This was her fight, where she had always been able to make a difference. Not a burden, and never a regret. For Relena, there would be no regret, only learning. 

Confident in that, she finished the laundry and went to check on the coffee. 

Wufei stood patiently in Lady Une's office while she finished her phone conversation. The office, reflecting the no-nonsense personality of the inhabitant, was done sparsely and with little thought to decoration. The only picture it held was a small portrait of Mariemaia. It rested on the desk, holding a smiling girl filled with the wonder and innocence of youth. For Wufei, it was a startling contrast to the girl who had once hungered for world domination, and whose orders he had followed in search of his own answers. 

The headquarters itself, where he came every morning but his allotted off days (both of which were forced on him), was considered the main office. Since its conception, the Preventers had branched out much like the police forces of old. They could not, after all, possibly expect to solve the problems of the entire world. As one of the original few, he chose to stay here, serving under Lady Une with Sally Po as his assigned partner. Their working relationship was stable and respectful, not without its difficulties, but certainly strong in skill. 

Lady Une placed the phone back in its cradle, straightened some papers on her desk, and looked at him. 

"I spoke with the President," she informed him at length. 

He said nothing, only waited. 

"He feels my reprimand of your conduct during the hostage situation was not severe enough. He suggests I give you two weeks suspension. When you come back, you're to receive the necessary training." 

Stiffening, imagining the humiliation, the failure, and the boredom, Wufei answered tightly, "Two weeks?" 

Apparently disliking his tone, she answered, "Consider yourself lucky. He wanted a month, but I managed to talk him down. In this case, I'm afraid I must agree with him. We aren't God. We shouldn't be handling things we aren't trained to handle. Someone innocent could get hurt in the process." 

"I see." His tone was cold. So even his inflexible superior could be persuaded to abandon her position when it meant the approval of a higher source. 

"He's the President, Wufei. His support of our actions are essential to our livelihood." 

"But I am not," he finished, not needing her to continue. 

Exasperated, she leaned forward. "I didn't say that." 

"There was no need." Then, bowing, he said curtly, "Fine. I accept this punishment." What other choice did he have? Fight it, and he would lose his job. Losing his job left him with nothing. It was pathetic to think of how empty his life was outside of this. It _was_ his life. Up until now, that hadn't mattered. Faced with the sting of being punished like a child, it was glaringly apparent. 

Temper fraying some, she snapped, "It isn't a punishment. You aren't losing your job, just merely being given some time to think before you jump into a situation you aren't fully trained for." 

"Had I not," he replied stiffly, "that child and many others might have died." 

"I'm well aware of that! You have to face that had someone with more training handled this, Wufei, that the terrorist might also have survived." 

It was as if she walked inside of him, grasped the words he repeated to himself so often, and was now flinging them at him as proof of what he already knew. He saved the hostage, and lost the terrorist. He didn't need two weeks without work to tell him that. 

There had never been a missed day of work for sickness or otherwise, nor a vacation taken in all his seven years here. Being sick wasn't a option he allowed, and a vacation by himself hadn't been appealing. He couldn't see taking it now. 

"Think of it as a vacation." 

An unpaid vacation, he thought with no small amount of irritation. Time alone, to himself, where he would think of things work left him with no free moments to ponder. 

"It's not a vacation. It's a leave of absence, and everyone will be perfectly aware of the reason." 

"Fine, Wufei, call it what you will. My decision stands. And don't take any paperwork with you when you go. You are to be completely away from work." 

The faintest hint of a smile crossed his lips. A decision not without influence. Before the involvement of the President, she was intent on letting him continue working. He could never stand politics. The entire world was a marionette with the master at the strings, pulling to change the course when it so pleased him. Since he could not play the game, nor his partner for that matter (one reason why he respected her as he did), his missions were never diplomatic in nature. After all, one couldn't allow a person comfortable with speaking their mind into a room full of people in self-denial. 

Apparently finding no comment forthcoming, she picked up a pen and bowed her head, focusing on one of many pieces of paper. Frustrated, annoyed, and very nearly pissed, Wufei turned, walked stiffly from the office, and down the hall, ignoring anyone he passed. Let them think what they would. They were all perfectly aware of his involvement in the incident at the airport, and he doubted anyone needed a blow-by of the meeting with Lady Une. Not that he would have offered had they asked. He would easily tell them all, his partner included, to mind their own business. Persistence would get his full blessings that they go straight to Hell. 

Since he needed things that were in his desk, he was forced to suffer further scrutiny when he entered the room filled with small cubicles, completely packed with agents. Sally Po's was on the other side of his, which meant if luck was with him, he wouldn't have to talk to her before he left. 

As it was, some higher power decided it was amusing to strike him while already down. 

Upon entering the room, he was greeted with a variety of expressions, varying from sympathetic to curious to pleased. His popularity with some of the other agents was less than impressive, so that was to be expected. His personality left him able to work with few people, as he would not tolerate incompetence or just plain idiocy. That he felt the need to relay shortcomings to said agents was a constant source of frustration to both his partner and his superior. 

"Hey, Mr. Chang, sorry to hear what happened." The comment came from behind him. Half-way to his desk, he paused and turned, favoring the young agent with a bland expression. 

Bent on impressing all other agents when arriving, this particular Preventer had gone so far as to find out the likes of everyone so that he could bring them gifts. Wufei respected work ethic. There were precious few people willing to do what was expected of them and then beyond. What he did not respect, however, were such overt attempts to secure their regard. The last incident, the one that finally forced him to explain to the boy exactly what he thought, was when the agent had brought him a sword. A very expensive sword. 

After explaining to the Preventer that the only way to achieve his esteem was to do his job as he was trained to, he had forced the boy to take the sword back. Since that time, the agent had not brought a gift to anyone. He also studiously went out of his way to avoid Wufei. Sally had informed him it was because he had been too hard on the boy. Wufei was of the opinion he hadn't, but unless he had an entire day, arguing with Sally was a waste of time. 

"Yes, and what did you hear?" He asked evenly, fairly certain that Sally had stood up by this time and was watching with avid interest. 

Eyes darting around the office as if looking for support, he hedged. "Well..." 

"As I expected. You simply wished to hear me tell you. Nice try." 

Flushing a dull red, the Preventer ducked his head and pretended rapt fascination with the magazine held upside down in his hands. 

Sally was waiting for him. Giving her a cursory glance, he unlocked the drawer and began gathering odds and ends, tempted for a second to take paperwork with him despite Lady Une's warning. 

"So, are they sticking me with an incompetent?" Sally teased, resting her hip against the edge of his desk. 

"I wouldn't know." 

"Ah. Are you going to let me come over and take you out for dinner now and then?" She continued, lowering her voice so as not to feed the office gossip. Wufei felt her efforts were in vain. 

"My social calendar is filled. Let me get back to you," he returned dryly, shoving the drawer back in. 

"Right. I'll just show up whenever." 

Sally was nothing if not persistent. 

"Fine. You run the risk of not finding me home then. I won't stay for your benefit." 

"Oh, thank you. You're such a dear friend." 

Rather than answer, he turned his back to her and began walking away. 

Evidentially unimpressed with that, Sally called out across the office. "Fine, don't say good-bye!" 

Gritting his teeth, he refused to look back. Trust Sally to act as if it were nothing. It wasn't her that was being forced into a suspension. He suspected that if she was, she would have been as displeased with it as he was. She liked to work as much as he did. Yet, she was very fond of telling him all about her extensive social life. By now, he had learned to turn a deaf ear and let her talk until she wore herself out. 

In his car, he sat unmoving, hands resting on the wheel. There was no where for him to go but his empty apartment. He spent the better part of 12 hours at work everyday. Coming home meant finishing up paperwork, eating, and then sleeping. There was nothing else. 

Sighing, he leaned back, rubbing at his eyes. 

For doing something, he had been penalized. What if he had stood by and watched while David had killed anyone close enough and then himself? What would the President and Lady Une have made of it then? It was a damn tight line to walk, and even with this suspension, he still would have done the same. Better that the people who survived had, than the man responsible for the situation. 

He wasn't certain what he disliked more, the humiliation of suspension, or being made an example of. Lady Une had to appease the President, the President had to placate the public. Would they have all liked it better had he let everyone die? David could have killed any number of people. Relena included. After all that she had done, surely they couldn't be so narrow minded as to wish her death over the terrorists. As he was sitting in this car now, with two weeks of nothing ahead of him, he already knew the answer to that. 

Relena. He had no desire to think about her. Since last night, however, it seemed she was always there, lurking in the back of his mind. He knew he had made a mistake touching her, kissing her. It was harder to forget. These two weeks weren't going to make it any easier on him either. But he would. He had done many things. Ignoring one woman shouldn't prove any more difficult. 

Rubbing at the ache in her neck, Relena sighed, eyeing the growing pile of crumpled paper on her floor. If she was at all intelligent, she knew, she would hire someone to write her speeches for her. She couldn't, however, give a speech with words that weren't her own. It seemed somehow dishonest. That, and she was stubborn enough to believe she could say what she wanted better than anyone else. 

"Almost there," she murmured. "Two-thirds of the way finished at least." 

Unless she found something else she wasn't particularly fond of. 

Ending a sentence, she looked longingly in the direction of the kitchen. It had been over six hours since she last had anything to eat. Time went extremely quickly when she worked like this. She almost needed someone to tell her when to stop, because dawn was a few short hours from making its presence known. As it was, midnight had come and gone. 

Craving a break, she rose, stretched cramped muscles, and grabbed a much needed snack. Letting a yawn run its course, she flipped the TV on and picked up the news. It was global, so it brought her current events from all over the world. In her position, it was a very nice channel to have. She needed to be up on everything all of the time. 

Falling bonelessly into her favorite chair, she caught the segment as it shifted. 

"... And in other news, Preventer Chang Wufei was suspended due to his actions in the recent shooting at the Senatorial Point airport. How long is undisclosed, but we did manage to confirm that he has not been dismissed, and at present there are no plans to do so." At that conclusion, the camera switched to a reporter on the street. 

Somewhat startled, Relena watched the rest of the news broadcast. As was typical, half of the people interviewed were for it, the other against. 

"Suspended..." She knew it was at the request of the President. No one else could have gotten Lady Une to comply. 

Feeling a twinge of pity for him, she clamped it down before it bloomed. Wufei was certainly capable of taking care of himself. He didn't need her pity, as he had so informed her. 

Faintly annoyed because he had managed to intrude even without her thinking of him, she turned the TV off with a snap and went to finish her speech. 

She never should have turned the thing on in the first place. 


	7. Chapter Seven

It was shortly after dawn. 

Few people were out this time of the morning. Any that happened to be were half-asleep behind the wheel of a car. Had it been a different day, Wufei might have joined them on the road. Remembering that made him push himself harder as he slipped into a series of lethal spin kicks and forward hand thrusts. There was snow under his feet, in his hair, wet on his skin. It was falling steadily now, in that slowly drifting way that made only the faintest of sound. 

Stirring up another puff of air as he expelled, he fought to keep purchase on the compacted ground. As he fell back, he moved his feet in perfect step, side to side, his body swaying with them as if dancing. He imagined there was another in front of him throwing punches, and his ability to stick to a pattern meant the difference between getting hit in the face or avoiding a fist. He was only disappointed there _wasn't_ something solid in front of him him upon which he could take out his frustration. 

As he shifted to the offensive, his mind still held that impatient note and his muscles ached with the need to relieve the energy this exercise wasn't touching. Temper simmered beneath the surface, at himself, at Lady Une, at Relena. So much emotion. Enough that he didn't know where to put what he couldn't burn away. Up until now, everything had been going in a sensible, synchronous manner, never deviating from the schedule he was used to. Until Relena made him aware of her as a woman, until David made him aware of his capacity to fail. 

His fist hurled through the air. The weight of his thoughts was behind it, and he had no doubt that had something been in front of him, it would have shattered. 

Breathing heavily, he forced himself to slow. Nothing would be served by working himself into exhaustion. Before long anyway, others would join him in the park, jogging or walking the path leading around it. He didn't want to be here when they were. They acted as if they had never seen martial arts in their lives, and couldn't keep from staring as they went past. Jogging was normal, what he did apparently wasn't. So he went when everyone else didn't, prior to leaving for work 

Usually, he reminded himself with ill temper as he eased into the flowing, soothing motions of T'ai Chi. It was difficult to remain full of anything when he did this simple practice because it demanded you let go of everything. 

The air began to chill the dampness on his arms and chest. Aware of the cold now on a level he hadn't been when his movements were more aggressive, Wufei drew the habit to a close by going through a few simple stretches. Shaking the snow from his hair after, he retrieved his sweatshirt from a nearby bench. He was going through the motions of pulling it over his head when a figure drew into his line of sight. 

A man not much taller than him stuck to the gravel path. He wore a dark overcoat, the edges of it snapping and curling around his calves. He evidentially thought little of hats, but he wore a scarf. It trailed after him as he strode purposefully, his intent obvious. 

Lips compressing, he waited. He knew that walk, that unruly shock of hair that nothing could tame, not even the teeth of a comb. He could turn the other way and leave if he felt so inclined. If the man wanted to talk to him badly enough, however, he would find him regardless of where Wufei went. He had a talent for it. 

Curiosity kept him in place. He wanted to see what the other had to say. 

"What brings you here, Yuy?" He demanded, balancing his foot behind him as he stretched first one thigh, and then the other. No greeting, no small talk for an old friend. He had never been one for the formalities of brotherhood. 

Heero paused near the bench, hands secured in his overcoat pockets, hard eyes passing over Wufei's indifferent expression. Chafing under the scrutiny, Wufei fought to keep irritation at bay. Something told him that Heero wasn't here for the pleasure of his company. The other man intended to meddle and offer his opinion where it wasn't needed and certainly not appreciated. What else could bring him here after they hadn't so much as spoken ten successive words in seven years? 

Raising his arms above his head, he continued when Heero didn't answer, "How did you know to look for me here?" 

"I knocked on your door. You didn't answer. The lady that lives across from you told me you go here every morning." 

"You questioned my neighbors?" It was more of an accusation than a question. 

"She was shaking her rug over the balcony. Her cat wouldn't leave my damn leg alone, wouldn't come when she called it. So I brought the hairy thing up to her and she asked me if I was looking for you," the last was said as he scowled down at the stray white hairs on his overcoat. 

Wufei snorted. "I dislike that cat intensely. It uses my front steps as its commode." He paused, pulling his arm behind his head. "I scoop it up in a shovel and deposit it in her plants." 

A sharp sound broke the silence between comments. Wufei slanted Heero a glance, struggling not to laugh with him. 

"Let me hear what you have to say," he ordered, when Heero stopped laughing. "I've got things to do." 

A faint smile crossed the ex-pilot's face. "I doubt that. I watch the news." 

"Bastard," Wufei rejoined without heat, dropping his foot from the bench. Coming from anyone else it would have nettled him. Heero had a way of being roughly honest that took the sting from it. There was no sarcasm there, no glee. "Since you're here, follow me back to my apartment. I'll fix us something hot to drink." 

In silent agreement, Heero fell in step next to him, neither finding the need to talk simply because it was what people did when together. Wufei had always appreciated that about him. That, and the fact that Heero said what he felt with little regard for how it sounded. Wufei hated being coddled, lied to, or talked around. It was evident Heero felt the same. 

The walk was short. He lived almost across the street from the park. It was not an accident of fate either. Wufei rarely allowed for surprises. He lived where he did because it was close to work, the nearest grocery, and, of course, the park. 

Grunting as they went up the front steps, Heero noted, "It's cold." 

He held the door open. "There isn't enough room to exercise in my apartment." 

Once inside, he stripped off the sweatshirt and the tank top below. They were wet with snow and sweat. The feel of that combination sticking to his skin was beginning to bother him, especially in the heat of his apartment. 

Grabbing a white, cotton T-shirt from a basket of unfolded laundry sitting near the door, he shrugged the replacement over his head and bent to untie his shoes. It was habit. He didn't like transferring whatever he had stepped on outside to his carpet. A good practice, considering the neighbor's cat. 

Getting rid of his boots at the door, Heero offered up no complaint when Wufei elbowed him in the limited space. He draped his coat over a nearby recliner and walked into the kitchen as if he had been here thousands of times before. 

In all actuality, Wufei rarely had visitors. His apartment was his and he hesitated to share the living space with anyone. Perhaps because it reflected him, with its scant decorations, a reminder of his past, of his life on his colony before the war, before its obliteration. 

The scrolls on the walls were Chinese proverbs. The watercolors of curving roofs, endless fields, and unmoving waters were Meiran's. It was one of the few things she had sat still long enough to do that bore no connection to fighting. Looking at them now, he understood her in a way he hadn't before. The gentle beauty in the pictures revealed what she had denied herself, kept hidden behind the guise of warrior. They were the only things besides his clothing that he had taken with him when he fled his colony with Nataku. 1 

As he passed them, he smiled slightly. Pride was all that had prompted her to sign them. She had been very embarrassed about the gift given her by the Gods. He had known it, and used it as a weapon constantly. His regret was that he never told her of their beauty, or informed her of their importance to him. But then, with regard to his wife, he had a great many regrets. 

Heero was sitting at the table. 

Reaching into the cabinet above the sink, Wufei removed a box. "Tea. Darjeeling." 2 

Taking Heero's nod to be a sign that he agreed (not that Wufei intended to make anything different had he not), he filled up the kettle and began boiling the water. As was usual for him in the kitchen, he cleaned up his mess as he went, putting one thing away before he was even done with the next. 

Back to the other man, he commented, "I know why you're here, though I don't know exactly what it is you think you can say. Relena doesn't need a champion." 

"I think you're an idiot," Heero replied bluntly. 

A short, disbelieving laugh escaped. He matched Heero's expression. "I am an idiot? She once cared for you and you did nothing." 

"I never loved her," he admitted, matter-of-fact. "Not in the way she wanted." 

"And you think I do." It was more of a statement than a question. 

"You want her." 

"That isn't enough," Wufei threw back tersely as he occupied himself with finding two cups. 

"It's a beginning," Heero disagreed. 

"And did you want her, Heero?" He challenged. 

He had known it would lead to this the moment he recognized Heero. Still, he found it difficult to talk about feelings he wanted no part of. Especially not with Heero. At one time, he knew Relena cared for the ex-Wing pilot. Everyone knew. But damn it, it didn't matter. Nothing about her should matter, and yet Heero was here, pushing an issue that should have been none of his business. 

Something crossed his features that Wufei couldn't decipher. 

"No. I wanted to protect her. There's a difference." 

"Yes, there is. And you're still trying to protect her. So why are you here today? To warn me away, or tell me to go for it? What would you know of relationships, Heero Yuy?" 

Blue eyes darkened, narrowed slightly. "You are angry. I'll let your comment pass." 

Wufei's lip curled. "How gracious of you. Let me remind you that you stand in _my_ kitchen, preaching to me about something that isn't any of your damn business." 

"You want her. You wouldn't be upset if you didn't." 

"And do we have your blessing?" 

To Wufei's surprise, Heero smiled. "If you're this difficult with her, it's no wonder you aren't together." 

Rolling his eyes heavenward, Wufei asked the Gods for patience. "You seem to think this is a simple matter." 

"It is. You make more out of it than is necessary." 

He was about to snap back, when the kettle went off. Subduing the whistling, Wufei took it from the burner and slammed it down on a cold one. Tense, feeling the strain of his discomfort in his neck and shoulders, he practically ripped the tea packages open and threw them in the cups before pouring the water. 

What might be fine for Heero, was not for him. It wasn't a matter of taking Relena to bed and leaving it at that. They wanted each other, of that there was no doubt. But he knew. If he touched her, loved her that way, it would never be enough. It did not matter if others saw it differently. He was not in the habit of using people for physical pleasure. It had happened before, and it wouldn't again. Those few times had been the lowest in his life, and he had not forgiven himself the weakness. 

Turning, he set Heero's cup of tea in front of him and refused to take a seat. 

"So, let me understand you. You come here today to tell me to sleep with Relena and be done with it?" 

"Don't be an ass. Just because you can't see past your fear doesn't mean there isn't anything beyond it." 

Wufei went very still. "I've been married once, Heero. I have no desire to repeat the experience." 

If he was surprised by the news, he didn't show it. He sipped at the tea. "Relena deserves to be happy." 

"You obviously think I can make her happy." A cynical smile twisted his lips. "I couldn't make my wife happy. I doubt I can do any better for Relena." 

Heero shrugged. "She wants you." 

"Stop meddling in her life. She didn't ask you to be her keeper. Who put you up to this? Maxwell?" 

"I came on my own." 

"You're wasting your time. And mine." 

"You have plenty of time." 

His lips thinned. "Stop referring to my suspension." 

"I think the President was wrong to suspend you. No one else would have done what you did." 

"Except you." 

A smile surfaced. "We are alike in some respects." 

Wufei snorted. "Perish the thought." 

They sampled more of their tea. 

"Know this. No matter what you say to me, I will ultimately make up my own mind." 

Heero seemed unperturbed. "I knew it. I came anyway." 

Sighing a little, he had to smile. "For my tea." 

Heero peered into the cup. "It's good tea." 

Relena was the essence of serenity, of self possession and stability as she smiled beyond the podium to the crowd of reporters and citizens. Bodyguards waited behind her, unassuming and somber in their dark suits. They were not only for her, however, but the President as well. He stood to her right, close enough to touch her elbow, in a pale grey suit of his own that made him look approachable, yet patrician. 

Whether others were or not, she was aware that it was not simply a reflection of style. Everything was planned. From the shine of his shoes to the part in his hair. The Public Relations department knew what they were being paid for. The suit was simple enough that it didn't detract from her own pale creme ensemble, yet cut to remind anyone who looked that he was undoubtedly the one in control. 

In politics, image meant everything. It was rarely enough to be an eloquent speaker, or a fiery reformist who stirred passions and demanded action. They were always the bright flashes in history. The ones everyone remembered, but never lasted. There was too much for her to do not to play the game. If a bit of herself had to sit aside while she did it, it would have to be enough for now. There were always better ways to go about things. Relena was not above sacrificing a thing or two to get there. 

"I would again like to thank the President," she finished after the short pause in which she collected her own thoughts and let the speech penetrate. 

"He has been gracious enough to take time from his busy schedule to stand with me today. He, too, is concerned with the lack of security that makes these sadly avoidable events possible. With his help, and yours, I would like to work to make the places we live not only safe on a global scale, but close to us as well. In our homes, our schools, and certainly, our airports. I thank you all for coming here today. Mr. President..." she tapered off, stepping aside to allow him the podium. 

As the applause rang out, the President angled his body enough so that it faced her, included her, as he clapped with them and smiled his approval. 

"Thank you for having me here today, Vice Foreign Minister. As you know I..." And here was where she retreated into her thoughts, skill catching the important phrases while her mind was free to wander were it wanted. 

Bowing her head in appreciation, she carefully folded her hands in front of her and styled her face in a graciously attentive expression. No matter how much the President praised her, she knew he was displeased. The only action his quickly constructed damage control had included was suspending Wufei. It was the barest of responses, enough to keep from reflecting badly on him, but not so much that he had to work for it. That was where she had disrupted the fragile balance. 

At a quarter past seven, shortly before the press conference was scheduled to begin, the President's personal aide had called her, asked her to hold (long enough for her to have a bagel and a glass of orange juice), and then patched her directly through to the President. His message was short and to the point. He wanted in on what she planned, as well as a place next to her at the conference. Knowing that she intended to go through with it regardless of his support, he was given no choice but _to_ support her. 

Not that he was a bad man. She knew his job wasn't easy. After all, she had been in a similar position at one time. Change took time, and time was not always something a man of his stature had. That was why she assured him the most difficult of the work would be on her shoulders. He only had to help where he could and offer his support. With his respect behind her, it would give her more of an edge. Because she was serious about improving safety. She never wanted to see another baby terrorized that way, or innocent people forced to watch a distraught man blow the back of his head off. 

In terms of his predecessor, the current President was slightly more calculating and silently manipulative. He had seen his term begin in a time when peace had finally been achieved and maintained. He was also younger by about five years, but had that same handsome wealth of silver hair the former Chief of Staff sported. It lent him an aristocratic air that was always romanticized, regardless of how well he was doing in the polls. People liked to think those leading them were a step above. 

Born to a career military man and a homemaker, his upbringing had been very conservative and far from wealthy. The money he held before taking office came from his own private practice as a lawyer, and those of his backers. Having been a lawyer, and having had a respected officer as a father, he was easily embraced by the people. While not on the same level as them, he was a man considered to be understanding of the working class. He was, as some had termed it, a man with his feet in both worlds. 

Regardless, Relena was grateful for his help. It didn't matter to her that he had never intended for it to happen to begin with. As long as he did as promised it was enough for her. 

Blinking, she became aware that his speech was winding down. This would be shorter than most of the appearances he put in, both because it was a simple press conference and also because he had somewhere else he needed to be. 

"I have a few moments if the press would like to pose any questions before I'm needed in the trenches," he joked with his boyish, perfectly formed smile that was meant to draw you into his confidence and make you feel as if he were talking for only you. 

Polite laughter rang out before hands went up. 

Names came easily to his lips. It was important to remember who was who in the world of news. Reporters could hurt you as easily as they could help you. 

"Mr. Koake," he decided, pointing to a dark haired, well-dressed reporter in the front row. 

"Mr. President, you said you intended to back Vice Foreign Minister Darlian one hundred percent?" 

He nodded. "Correct. I completely support her endeavors. She is a very intelligent young woman, and I have no doubt that she can accomplish what she has set out to do." 

"And if she doesn't?" Koake fired back, writing furiously. 

The President laughed. "That's not even an option I'm considering." 

Amiable, but obviously dismissing, the President scanned the crowd for another hand, one he could consider safe, but also smart enough to ask the right questions, when someone elbowed their way to the front and spoke without invitation. 

"Mr. President, isn't it true that you are aware of a dangerous oil spill off the coast of Maine, and aren't intending to do anything about the thousands of animals dying because of it?" 

His calm never wavered. "This is Miss. Darlian's press conference, not mine. Let us keep the conversation directed toward her efforts." 

Something about that man... Relena's hands fell to her sides as her eyes fastened on him, searching for what it was that made him seem so familiar. 

"What are you so afraid of?" 

A hush had fallen over the crowd, and they were looking from the stranger to the President with expectant expressions. A part of her wanted to step in, to quell the rising curiosity and tension she sensed, but it wasn't her place. 

"I can assure you Mister..." Here he trailed off, giving the man a chance to speak. When he didn't offer his name, the President smiled indulgently and continued. "I promise you that if there is indeed an oil spill off the coast of Maine, I will do everything in my power to see that it gets cleaned up. The environment is precious to all of us." 

The stranger's face spasmed. "You lie." 

The backlash was instantaneous and unavoidable. 

The gun came up, and went off without so much as a gasp, or a shout. The bodyguards converged on the President like locusts, but only after he had already collapsed, after his blood was hot on her face and bright on her clothes. And it was only after zealous reporters wrestled the strangely subdued man to the ground that it finally occurred to her why he had looked so familiar. 

In his face, in his eyes, had been that same fatalistic determination that had shadowed David's. 

1 Someone read this and made the comment that Wufei couldn't have possibly kept the paintings in his Gundam. That, I definitely didn't mean, because had he, they would have been oblitered with his first Gundam. Rather, I figured he stashed them somewhere. He had enough money to pay those mercs for explosives (a whole suitcase full Oo) so I figure he could have easily afforded to find a place for the paintings. 

2 I'm one of the many people that see Wufei as a tea drinker, rather than a coffee hound. 


	8. Chapter Eight

Shifting, Wufei cast a glance at the minestrone simmering on the stove. Content that it was getting on well enough, he let himself relax against the wood frame of the kitchen door, watching as Heero flipped through the limited channels on his miniscule television. They had exhausted the limits of conversation some hours back, and Heero had sought a means of entertainment in the small black box Wufei rarely turned on, much less remembered he owned. Truthfully, he hadn't expected the ex-pilot to remain this long. But, odd or not, he wasn't any more inclined to tell him to leave than Heero was to go. 

Looking at him now brought memories of a time when fighting was everything to the exclusion of all else. Had it really been nearly ten years since the war? With a few mild scrapes disturbing it, the Unified Nations had managed to keep the peace for seven of those. There was something to be said for that. Perhaps he hadn't appreciated it nearly enough, but when he looked at Heero, the others, and remembered what they had been and saw what they had become, he valued what they had. 

In all years that had passed since, he rarely saw those who had been instrumental in the war save for Sally and Lady Une. The others had done what they needed to get past the circumstances that had bound them together, and respecting that, he let them be. It was possible they needed the distance to forget. Rather than intrude, he chose to concern himself with his own life. It worked fine until Sally pulled a stunt like a party that logically shouldn't have taken place before he had ten years as a Preventer. 

And then he watched, as they fell together like they had never been apart. 

The memories that held them were obviously stronger than he had given them credit for. Their lives were intertwined from decisions made, and he doubted now that it would ever be any different. Not when just talking to them took him back to being 15 again. As to whether or not it was healthy, however, he could not say. 

Heero made a vague sound of displeasure. "News." 

Raising his eyes, he reminded his guest, "I warned you I didn't have many channels." 

He might have left it at that and went back to attend the soup if something on the screen hadn't caught his attention. Straightening, expression flattening out, he demanded, "Go back." 

Complying, Heero went back a channel. 

"Again." 

There. He hadn't imagined it. It wasn't his mind tapping into places it had no business being. 

Moving closer to the television as Heero raised the volume, he caught the end of a news broadcast summarizing the events that had taken place earlier that morning. The President of the Unified Nations had been shot while at a press conference with Relena Darlian. Having been rushed to the hospital immediately after, no one outside of the medical facility was aware of how the treatment was going, or even if the man was still alive. 

That tightening in his stomach as the camera zoomed in on Relena's wane, but composed face told him that his concern wasn't only for the man responsible for suspending him. Nothing would be gained by his death save for political turmoil. Yet, he could only find himself thinking of those eyes that stared at him from the screen. Haunted eyes, holding things he doubted anyone else looked closely enough to see. 

He could think of her, alone as she waited, surrounded by guards that might as well have been statues for all the comfort they offered. But he didn't want to. He didn't want to care. Relena had seen the passing of a war, watched foundations crumble, people die, dreams shatter. She had the strength to surpass this. There was no reason for him to go to her, especially considering how they left things between them. It was only his own need that would bring him there, and she would know it. 

Heero looked at him. Wufei thought he read things in the other's face. 

Bothered by that, he kept his gaze shuttered. "She attracts trouble." 

"Yeah." Was all Heero said in return. 

Those eyes. They wouldn't leave him alone. 

Spurned by the pressure that was pushing on him from the inside, he bit out, "She doesn't need me." 

"I didn't say she did." 

Dark eyes narrowed. "You didn't have to." 

"Hm. There's a live conference." The scene shifted. "Relena's speaking." 

The camera captured her, seeming small and solitary despite the crowd of reporters and the wall of dark suits around her. Unreasonably, he found himself angry, wondering if those same guards' ill attempts at protection could cost her, her life as well. She was an easily recognizable target in the suit still stained with the President's blood, with that long wheat-colored hair and those eyes. No one had eyes that color, which held an agelessness, a portion of that girl, a weary intelligence. 

As he watched, she held up her hand for silence. And was given it almost immediately. 

"Thank you for your patience. I won't labor this conference down with meaningless phrases. I know that you are all here out of concern for the President's well being. I can tell you that he has just left a surgery that went well, and is currently stable. The surgeon is confident that he will recover fully, and be back with us soon." 

She projected relief and a gentle sense of calm, as if everything had always been certain. Beyond that, he saw how her mouth was drawn faintly at the corners, how her fingers gripped one another so tightly the skin stretched taut against her knuckles, and how she wavered the slightest bit when she turned to walk back into the hospital. The camera only saw her smile, captured the confident rise of her shoulders, and the way she held herself so straight. But he knew how smiles could fade as the weight of the day pulled shoulders down and battered what was left of confidence. 

"Foolish woman. When will she stop thinking she can do everything?" 

"Probably the same day you do," Heero answered smartly, clicking so that the screen went black. 

"As if you can claim to be any better." His heart wasn't in the conversation. Unwillingly, his eyes were drawn to the paintings on his wall. The one of an endless field of flowers. It reminded him of another woman who had thought herself capable of anything. She had fought to protect fragility as well, never considering her own in the struggle. For that, she had lost her life. 

Panic touched him, but he was too trapped by the rigors of discipline to let it have its way. 

It wasn't the same. They weren't the same. 

"She's on another continent, Heero." She was another life away. 

Heero rose, shrugged, as direct eyes that always saw too much pinned him with their intensity. "That's not gonna stop you." He paused as he passed, reached for his coat, smiled. "You've got plenty of time." 

The tightness in his chest eased a bit. "Bastard." 

He slipped into his boots, laced them up. Wufei didn't see him to the door, and Heero didn't say good-bye when he left. He simply closed the door behind him, leaving Wufei staring at the silent television screen and remembering. 

The strength remained until the doors closed, until the world could no longer see her. The silent faces in dark suits enclosed around her, shielded her from view. She only saw the white of the tile beneath her feet, and the unyielding backs of the ones walking in front of her as they escorted her to the elevator. They rode the convenience down to the basement, where she was boxed into a non-descript car and driven away. 

Sinking into the upholstery, she pressed her fingers to her eyes until they felt as if they would push out the other side. The poise, the calm, slid away, and she felt like a boneless mass, as if the slightest movement would send her sliding off the seat and onto the floor. Never, in all of her life, even at the moments when the responsibility had almost been unbearable, had she ever felt so isolated, so cut off from everything. 

It didn't matter that she was on top of current events all over the world, or that nearly everyone she came across at least knew her name, if not what she had stood for, and what she supported now. What she needed was what Wufei forced her to realize was missing. Her family, friends, were scattered. She saw them, but only now and then. The truth of the matter was, the most loved and the most hated woman in both the colonies and the world, was lonely. 

Laughing faintly, though the sound was hollow to her ears, she let her hands fall into her lap. "Brought low by base, human emotion." 

It would be fine, come morning. She would sleep and be revitalized. Tomorrow would bring its own troubles and countless needs claiming her attention. She would get caught up in the frenzy with others just like herself, and would have no time to think, no time to remember. Perhaps she would finally, forcefully clear enough time to sit down to that luncheon with her mother, or call Lucrezia and pester her for wedding details. Normal things, trivial things. 

"It isn't all about you," she murmured, chastising herself. 

The President had been shot today. She still carried evidence of that on her suit. 

By luck, by the grace of God, by bad marksmanship, she didn't know, but one or maybe all three, had sent the bullet clean through, missing his heart by a mere fraction of a centimeter. The Unified Nations had come so close to losing its leader, to being hurled into the scramble and the chaos that came with such a loss. It could have been different. She could have stood in the cold and the snow, on those front steps, and told them that a man they respected and considered their leader was gone. 

"But you didn't. So don't invite trouble where there is none." 

She wasn't certain if that was the voice of reality or optimism. Anymore, it was hard to tell. 

The doctor she talked to counseled her on taking the rest of the day away from work, and went so far as to secure her destination to be no other than her apartment with the driver of the car. There were times she got goodly sick and tired of having other people make her decisions for her. Or maybe she was just feeling irritable. She did a lot of things her own way anymore. It was the thought of spending the remainder of the day with nothing to do that was bothering her so much. The doctor was well meaning, but he couldn't understand that work would be far more therapeutic for her. 

Then again, it might only be avoidance. It was easier to put off the personal things when you told yourself you had no choice but to be busy. There was always a choice. 

"So, basically," she told herself as she closed her eyes, "you've got no one to blame but yourself." 

She thought she might have dozed off. The sound of a door slamming jarred her, and the ride seemed shorter than it should have. The driver walked her to the apartment building, where she further declined the offer of a guard. After all, the gunman's target had been the President, not her, and at the moment anyway, he was in police custody. There wasn't any reason to worry. 

Deciding to take the doctor seriously, she treated herself to a long, hot shower and slipped into pajamas and a robe. Barefoot, she sipped coffee in the kitchen and read her mail, finding the junk ones particularly amusing. They all promised untold riches or fabulous prizes if only you would purchase this one, small thing. The sad fact was that many people bought into it. 

"Maybe they stabilize some small part of the economy," she mused, reaching for a cracker. 

Everything went fine until she made the mistake of turning the television on and saw her own face there. 

Sitting down hard on the couch, she watched the summary of the morning's events, finding it odd to see if from a different point of view. It was almost funny how little the camera captured, and yet how much. They had certainly gotten a good view of the President as he was shot, as he fell, and the bodyguards closed over him, blocking him from further scrutiny. Bereft of that, they had homed in on her. The moment they seemed to enjoy so much was the one of her with blood on her face, looking on with shocked, wide eyes. 

That was the media for you. Making news out of someone else's misery. To be fair, however, they did good as well as harm. It was like most other things, people such as herself included. As much as any other politician, she depended on them to give her the current events, however slanted. There was only so much to be picked up through the usual channels. 

Seeing your own face in countless features, nonetheless, wasn't all anyone made it out to be. You either became indifferent to it, or let the resentment fester into something ugly. She had opted to becoming numb to the coverage of her actions. So she hadn't expected to feel bruised at seeing this broadcast. 

Killing the television, she rubbed at the back of her neck. "It was your own fault. You should have known better," she reminded herself, coming to the conclusion that she had no doubt set the record for the amount of times talked to yourself in one day. 

A shrill, impatient whistle broke the quiet of her apartment. 

Stretching across the length of the couch, she yanked the phone from the cradle and answered as neutrally as possible. 

"Relena?" 

She closed her eyes, falling back into the cushions. "Mom." 

"Are you all right? I've been watching the news and..." Such concern there, such love. 

Listening to one voice could take her back to being little again, when mother's kisses healed all wounds and dreams didn't seem so impossible. 

"I'm okay. Just taking a little personal time," she almost laughed as the last words slipped out. 

"I thought you might need someone to talk to. I called the day before yesterday, but you must not have checked your messages." 

"I'm sorry. It's been a trying few days." That was an understatement if ever one existed. 

"You couldn't take some time off? I'd love to have you here." 

A faint smile surfaced. The offer to run to her mother, be sheltered by her arms and surrounded by that same fragrance she would forever associate with comfort, was almost too great to resist. But there were things here that still needed to be done. There were always things that needed to be done, and she had already taken her day for Wufei's party. It was amusing how little a vacation that had resembled. 

"I wish I could..." And she couldn't help the wistful quality that was in her words. 

"I understand. You're a busy girl." Her tone dropped, became softer. "But I'm always here if you need me." 

Tears burned at the back of her eyelids. She furiously blinked them away. "I know. I love you, mom. I'm all right. I promise. I just need a good night's sleep." 

They talked longer, of innocuous things that couldn't cause pain and took her away from the state the world was in at the moment. The loneliness didn't touch her again until she hung the phone up, knowing she had avoided talking about what was bothering her because she didn't want to burden her mother. The woman who had raised her, if not borne her, had seen enough ugliness already. There was no need to give her more. 

"Especially not mine." 

It was shortly after ten when she was startled awake by the ringing of her doorbell. Stumbling to her feet, she winced as sharp pain lanced through her neck and down her back. This was what came of allowing herself to fall asleep on the couch; sitting up, no less. 

It didn't occur to her that no one should have been allowed entrance to the building unless they called up to her apartment first and she went down and let them in, until she had already opened the door. And found herself staring into dark, impossibly black eyes. 

She said the first though to come to her mind. "How did you get in?" 

"Why did you answer the door?" He countered, eyes not wavering from their scrutiny of her face. 

Feeling very much like she had been scolded, she smoothed down hair she was certain was standing out in dozens of direction, and answered defensively, "You woke me up. I wasn't thinking clearly." 

Something close to a smile crossed his lips. "That wouldn't be the first time." 

Now his eyes were slipping lower, taking in her attire, and falling on her bare feet. She curled her toes in and tried to hide them beneath the hem of her robe. He didn't need to know that she painted her toe nails bright yellow. That he would suddenly show up here, without warning, and find her a mess was embarrassing enough. Especially considering she could swear there was amusement lurking in his eyes when they rejoined hers. 

"I wasn't expecting company." 

"I wasn't certain I was coming." 

There was something different, about seeing her looking rumpled from sleep and child-like in a robe that was at least a size or two too big. Something even more personal, and intimate than touching her had been. 

It was late, he knew, and wrong of him to come at all, but that hadn't stopped him from getting on the plane. Whether he knew it or not, Heero was right. Knowing all of this hadn't stopped him. But even standing here on her doorstep, he wasn't certain if he wanted to face the reasons why. 

Of all the people she expected to be on the other side of the door, it wasn't him. He made his feelings perfectly clear the last time they were together, and she didn't care for a repeat. Not today. Couldn't he have picked any other day to show up, looking no worse for wear, even after what must have been a long plane ride? 

He made her acutely aware of her state of dress, the imprint of the couch pillow in her cheek, the lack of formality between them now. But what was worse, was the way little seemed to have changed. She still felt that need when she looked at him. 

"Are you going to ask me in?" 

"No." Her skills as hostess seemed to have fled in the need for self-preservation. 

She wasn't sure which affected her more, the way he sounded when he laughed, or the way he looked. 

"I expected that. But I didn't come all this way to have you turn me aside." 

Pressing her hand to her forehead, willing herself to dredge up control of this situation from somewhere, she told him, "I didn't ask you to come." 

This was ridiculous. She thought better on her feet than this. Simply because he showed up at an indecent hour without calling and caught her in her pajamas didn't mean she couldn't remain calm and handle things like an adult. 

"So I think you should just turn around and leave. I'm certain there are plenty of hotels that would be happy to have your business." 

Wufei was left standing in the hall, a bag at his feet, and a two inch thick door in his face. 


	9. Chapter Nine

Breathing deeply to calm her rapidly fluttering pulse, Relena braced herself against the door. The shock of seeing Wufei felt much better than she cared to admit. She hoped their parting, and time would have cooled the attraction. Obviously, it was too much to believe that a few days would make her forget. 

It was difficult to remember how little she liked him when he persisted in looking so... damn good (to fall to a level beneath the skilled diplomat everyone was so intent on seeing). Therein lay the difficulty. Wufei was too perfect. He never faltered, never lost that arrogant, remote sheen he wore like armor. And as much as she admitted to wanting him, she wasn't going to be the knight to scale the walls. She tried that once, and failed. 

She doubted he had gone yet. He hadn't ever seemed the type to let shut doors stand in his way. What bothered her most, was that she also knew him to be a person that did nothing on a whim. If he hadn't wanted to be here, he certainly wouldn't have wasted hours on a tedious plane ride. Which left her to wonder why. It was a bit hard to swallow that he would suddenly have a change of heart and travel to another continent to tell her. That left only one other possibility. He had watched the news. 

Sighing, she reminded herself that made little sense either. Wufei most likely hadn't wanted the President to die, but neither would he feel particularly disposed toward the man responsible for his suspension. He was hardly one to go so far to ask her if she was all right when a simple phone call would have done the same. That was more Duo's style. Wufei didn't have a flare for the dramatic. Which led her right back to where she had begun, and no closer to answering the question unless she relented and invited him in. It was beginning to look like she wasn't going to have a choice, a fact which did not make her feel overly hospitable. 

Squaring her shoulders as if a general going to battle, wondering when it was exactly Wufei had become a war, she slowly opened the door and regarded him coolly. Confirming her suspicion, he was standing just as she left him. 

"Would you have taken the door apart to get in?" 

"No, I was thinking I might camp outside your door." 

She expected him to be difficult because it would make it easier to defend against. Instead, he gave her a rare glimpse of humor and offered an easy victory where she hadn't thought she would get one. If it were anyone else, she might have let it rest. Since this was Wufei, she mistrusted the abrupt shift to humility. It wasn't like him. 

Coming here had been a gamble, and he knew it. He, who so rarely allowed himself to do anything without first considering the outcome, had, with some wild notion, snagged the nearest flight and shown up at her door with little more than a few days clothing and a miniscule amount of cash. What bothered him more than knowing he did it, more than having her slam the door in his face, was _why_. Why was she under his skin, there, even when he didn't want her to be? She was only another woman, like Lady Une, like Sally Po, like Lucrezia Noin. But he didn't want them. 

He had seen Relena before, during the war, and after. He thought of her, as an ideal, a political figure as hazy as all political figures were. And then he met her, spent time with her, and found she was something behind the smiles and the poise. Yet, her hold on him eluded. So he had held her, comforted her, kissed her. That alone shouldn't have brought him here. His mind couldn't wrap around the concept; that he might actually have met a force he couldn't fend off. 

Relena relented, moving back into her apartment to pull the door wider. "Come in. It's snowing like mad outside. I'm not going to force you back into it to find someplace to stay at this time of night." 

He bent at the waist, picked up simple black bag, and straightened, meeting her eyes again in that direct way he had that always made her skin heat. 

"Thank you." 

A little astonished at his expression of gratitude, she didn't attempt to step out of the way when he brushed past her, leaving spice and warmth in his wake. 

Closing the door with a soft click, she pressed her hands to it briefly, reminding herself that she could handle entertaining a guest in her bathrobe. She had given her first political speech at the tender age of 15 with little idea of exactly what she was doing and hardly any preparation, save for putting into words what burned in her heart, demanding to be spoken. What was inviting a man, she couldn't quite make up her mind whether she liked or not, into her own personal space to spend the night, compared to that? 

Turning, she pointed to the couch. "You can set your bag there..." And trailed off, because he was standing right behind her, removing his shoes. 

Having him this close was making her nervous. She didn't care for that feeling. 

"I'll make something to drink. Cocoa?" She was already moving to the kitchen. 

"That would be fine, thank you," he answered. 

She took the cocoa from the cupboard and the milk from the fridge. He hadn't said why he was here, and she hadn't asked. Maybe it was that neither of them cared to touch that yet. 

Wufei was resting in the doorway, swallowing up the space, making her feel as if there was no exit. 

Setting the pan on the stove, she began heating the milk, indicating to the table with a motion of her shoulder. "You can sit, if you like." 

Rather than comply, he studied her, looking for cracks. Her movements were fluent and her tone steady, but there were dark smudges beneath her eyes. Relena was careful to hold negative emotions close to her, as if she were afraid to share them for fear of what they would cause. He could say that about her, because she worked tirelessly, and against impossible odds, for others, for what she believed in, even when it was wrong or she was in danger of failure. Perhaps he admired her for that now where he once would have found it annoying, because he had followed paths in search of things and for reasons that felt right at the time. And like him, she was capable of breaking. 

The milk was warming, the cocoa was in the mugs. She turned to him, bracing her back against the counter. Silent questions were in her eyes, but she didn't give them a voice. It should have felt uncomfortable here with him, in her small, warm kitchen, the night and the snow and the world outside and somehow ages away. This was her haven, yet instead of invading it, he filled it. 

He was here now. Reasons, feelings, needs brought him. He didn't know what to do with them, because he couldn't put them away, or pretend they weren't real. Suspension kept him from getting lost in work. Heero kept him from getting lost in books. Meiran, even in death, kept him from forgetting what avoidance bred. It would be easy to let it pass him, easier to let Relena go on with her life as she always had before. But looking at her, at her eyes, it struck him that he didn't want to stand back and let something else claim what he could have. 

They were both waiting for something to happen. She could feel it. So maybe it was better to get it out and quit stalling. 

"Why are you here, Wufei?" She asked directly, proud of how centered she sounded. 

He shifted, left the doorway, moved closer. "I saw you on the news." 

She remembered what it felt like, standing beside the President when the gunshot split the air. 

"The President is supposed to recover fully within a few weeks or so." 

"I didn't ask about the President," he countered, dismissing her words. 

"You haven't asked about anything," she reminded him softly. 

Dark eyes held her. "How are you, Relena?" 

He was at the table now, the flat of his palm resting against he wood. 

"Why?" It was unkind of her, perhaps even childish, but she wanted to know why her health mattered to him. 

Rather than get annoyed, as she expected, or blank out and avoid the question, he indicated to the now boiling milk and waited while she tended to it. Wufei wasn't acting at all as she thought he would, or better yet, as she was used to him acting. But then, she had spent a few short days with him, and was fast learning there were aspects to him she hadn't even touched. Still, she couldn't help but be uneasy, as if she were on shifting ground and he were standing perfectly level. 

Some of the milk had burnt to the bottom of the pan, leaving a sickeningly sweet scent lingering in the kitchen air. She poured what was left into the two waiting mugs, hoping that her preoccupation hadn't ruined the taste. Passing one to Wufei meant leaving her corner, getting closer, but she curbed the feeling and let pride move her feet. With him watching her as he was, however, she felt almost like a sacrificial virgin with no inkling as to the danger she was about to encounter. 

Their fingers brushed. It was just the slightest of touches, a brief slide of skin on skin, but the shock of feeling it created left him restless, aching, and very near impatient. All were things he would have to do without, nevertheless. He hadn't come here to love her only. There were things that needed to be said, things that needed to be explored before he committed himself that way. Given the words they flung at each other last time they were alone, it was better to tread carefully. 

He couldn't help but notice that she hurried away from him and settled into the curve of the counter near the sink, belying the calm she was projecting. 

The relaxation that came on the heels of that surprised him. The knowledge that she wasn't at ease any more than he was made broaching this easier. 

"There are things between us that I want to understand," Wufei admitted, startling her. 

Relena stilled, wondering. She feared taking the words for what they seemed to mean, however. There was always the chance to fall, but she wasn't ready to scrape her knees just yet. 

"What things? People are attracted to each other every day, Wufei. There's nothing spectacular in that." 

Something sparked in his eyes, a quick flash of anger, dark and potent, and she felt a thrill racing on the edge of fear. 

"No." That one word vibrated with enough emotion for a thousand. 

He set his cocoa aside, closed the distance between them, and took her arm, reminding her that he was faster than she ever would be. 

His gaze drilled into her. "Did Heero ever kiss you?" 

Caught off balance, trying to deal with having him touching her and being this close all at once, she blinked, puzzled and more than a little annoyed. 

"What in the world does that have to do with anything?" 

"Did he?" Wufei persisted, and she thought he wouldn't let go until he got what he wanted. 

"Once. "She snapped, wishing there was somewhere for her to go. She hated being boxed in. 

He nodded hard, took her mug from her, and set it in the sink. Before she could protest, she was against him and his lips were on hers. The kiss wasn't bruising, or demanding. It was gentle, warm, and asked. A soft slide of his skin over hers, and the welcoming pressure of his fingers in the small of her back. Her body arched into his of its own will, and even as her hands rose to thread around his neck, a part of her was ashamed to admit that if he took her on the floor right now there would be no fight. 

He only meant to prove something to her, not himself; but he was touching her, kissing her again, and he didn't want to let go, to stop. Control, sense, those steady emotions which had always held him in check failed him now. It couldn't be right yet. Still, he wound his arms around her and brought her closer, slanting his mouth so that he could taste more. Cocoa and Relena. 

Relena wasn't aware of how much time had passed when he finally dragged his mouth away and took a shuddering breath, filling his chest with air so that it rose against her own. She did know that she felt dazed, half-asleep in a way that left her limbs sluggish and uncooperative, and that her expression had to be the most simple-minded one she ever had the pleasure of assuming. 

"Did it feel that way?" 

She wanted to smile because his voice was unsteady and to enjoy the fact that Wufei wasn't completely infallible, but she found herself answering him instead. "Did what?" 

"Kissing Heero." 

Maybe it would have been better to be angry, but she couldn't manage it. "No. It was warm and comfortable, like kissing a brother." 

Something like satisfaction gleamed in his eyes. "Then don't belittle what we feel." 

'What we feel'... Not what she felt. Not what he felt. What _they_ felt, together. 

A portion of her mind clung to rational thought, and it asserted itself now, questioning his sincerity after he had all but told her he didn't want her. Maybe it was her pride holding onto words spoken in anger, but she felt it all the same. 

The mistrust, the doubt must have shown in her expression. 

"I've always wanted you, Relena." Spoken softly, in a way that made it seem as if he had read her thoughts, as if a part of him were afraid she wouldn't believe. 

She further steadied herself. "Why now?" 

"I never want to lose what I need because of pride again." 

"Again?" 

He pulled away. She felt it and saw it in his face as his expression closed. 

"Wufei, I-" 

Lifting his hand, he stepped back. 

Confused, hurt, she rubbed absently at her arms to stave off the sudden chill and reached for her cocoa in the sink. Anything to occupy her hands. She wished it were so easy for her mind, because she didn't know if she could understand the way Wufei shut himself off without hardly any effort. 

So she turned away. 

There was that panic again. How long had it been since he gave himself to another without reservations? Had there even been a time? There was no way to know what would happen here if he shared parts of himself with her that few had ever seen. She could hurt him. He could hurt her. They could hurt together. Perhaps, that was the gamble he had to take now, or walk away. Walk away, and leave her for good. 

"I can't do that." He murmured, closing his eyes briefly. 

It was most difficult, wrestling with yourself. 

He touched her shoulder. "Please. Could we go and sit in the living room?" 

Startled by the request, she threw him a look that she knew reflected her feelings. The plea was in his face as well. She might not have known exactly what it cost him, but she did understand that he was extending her something she wasn't likely to ever get again if she pushed it away now. 

Nodding, she held tightly to her mug, so that the blunt edge of the rim bit into her hand, and led him. 

She sat first, tucking her feet beneath the hem of her robe and forcing herself to look more comfortable than she felt. He sat next to her. His arm was warm against her shoulder, and his hip solid against her own. 

They sat in the silence for a time. Relena's apartment was on the outside, and the curtains on the windows were opened slightly so that they could watch the snow falling. It was late enough that they were both beginning to feel the hour, but not so much that they could have left things until the morning. 

"Before the war, I was married." 

Spoken low and matter-of-fact. As if all young people, barely teenagers, hardly adults, married every day. 

She looked to him, but he wasn't looking back. "But you were only 14." 

"It was tradition. Neither of us wanted the marriage. We made certain living together was difficult. But that is beside the point. She died." 

There was a stiff quality to his tone, and his body against her had gone rigid. This was harder for him than he let on, reliving memories that brought pain. She wanted to tell him that he didn't have to share this with her, but she couldn't bring herself to. A part of her wanted to know. 

He spoke again before she could say anything. 

"It was in an attack on our colony. Mobile suits were being crafted by a scientist. Nataku, and another. She demanded that I do something about the attack, that I fight. But I turned it aside, and ridiculed her for her desire to fight. So she went in my place, and I followed too late. She died protecting what I would not." 

"Wufei..." 

A slight, bitter smile twisted his lips. "Don't say you're sorry, Relena. It was a long time ago. But my indecision cost me a girl I had never learned to fully appreciate, and I don't want that to happen again. I wanted you to understand why I came. My choices then led me down the paths I took, and I could no longer allow myself to make another mistake such as that." 

There. It was said. He found he could breathe with less of a struggle, and the tension that always followed thoughts of Meiran drained away with the admission of guilt and regret. 

There was no denying his disclosure had thrown her. Not so much, however, that she couldn't properly respond. He had given her insight into himself, and she didn't think that was something he gave lightly. 

"Then you'll understand if I say she made her choices too, Wufei." He focused on her, his gaze sharp. "Sometimes, I would sit and wonder if the outcome of the war would have been different had I stood my ground in the Sank Kingdom and refused to be Duke Dermail's pawn. But I can never know that, and where I was at in that moment, it seemed right. We can't live our lives by regret. You lose too much that way." 

He thought of Meiran. How angry she had looked holding that helmet beneath her arm, swallowed by the size of her flight suit, and determined beyond anything to do what _she_ thought was right. He hadn't been able to stop her anymore than she had been able to force him to go. Maybe he had always known that. It was simply easier to hold on than it was to let go. 

The stress in him eased, and he sank back, allowing himself to rest against her. His hand found hers, and he tangled their fingers, the pad of his thumb absently brushing the inside of her palm. A simple gesture, one most wouldn't think twice before doing. But not Wufei. He never did anything out of turn. So she smiled faintly, set her head on his shoulder, and just listened. 


	10. Chapter Ten

There   
A whispered sigh, a drawn breath   
Now   
A touch, a glance   
Here   
The slide, of skin on skin   
Then   
The stars shatter, and fall 

Snow fell; drifting, spiraling, tumbling endlessly. Relena remained tucked against him, her fingers tangled with his and the weight of her head warm on his shoulder. Wufei absorbed the feelings, internalized them, and forced himself to accept the comfort that hung heavy in the silence between them. 

When she spoke, her voice was soft, heavy with sleep. "I only have one bedroom. The other has my home office in it." 

"The couch is fine. I've slept in the cockpit of a Gundam." There was a trace of humor there that might have been careless talk had it been anyone else. But Wufei guarded his thoughts so closely, she knew he offered what he wanted to and held the rest back. It would be some time before he let himself speak freely. 

Still, she let the remark pass, knowing that they didn't need to relive old wounds. 

"It's late," she reflected. "I suppose we should get to sleep." 

"You have things to do." Not a question, but a surety. 

She smiled, stretched. "I always have things to do. But I can make time for myself if I have a reason." 

His eyes searched her face, but he didn't offer one. She hadn't expected he would. This was going to be a painfully slow dance. 

"I'll get you some blankets." 

Rising, she turned away. Strong fingers closed around her wrist, tugged, and she found herself tumbling into his arms. She had a brief glimpse of a smile before he put his mouth to better use. A willing participant, she gave with equal verve, uttering a protest when he dragged his lips away. 

"You were saying something about sleep?" He teased, and the play in his tone drew the heat centered in her middle higher. 

Arching a slender brow, she returned lightly, "Was I?" 

"Hm." He leaned in, pressed his lips to the corner of her mouth, the slope of her chin where it smoothed into her neck. 

"Sleep." She untangled herself, rolling from his arms to come up on legs not quite steady. While she was well aware of her strengths, it wasn't difficult to determine that had he not wanted to let her go, she wouldn't have moved at all. 

It was there in the defiant tilt of her chin. Relena would come to him, or not at all. She was a woman who would not be trampled, or pushed aside. She had already shown him that she could walk away if need be, and stand on her own. 

"After all, I have _things_ to do," she intoned with that precise elegance he was growing accustomed to. 

"Yes, you do." When he stood, his eyes held promises; but this was a decision she intended to make. 

It wasn't a matter of virtue or fear. It was knowing what she wanted, and being strong enough to accept it. 

Offering him a hand, she murmured, "I only have one bed." 

The hesitation was a slight, barely discernable flicker across his face. Relena wasn't even certain she had seen it at all. 

He slid his hand into hers. Soft, smooth, their fingers curled, and she led him. 

When they stood together in her room, Wufei only placed either hand at her shoulders and gently drew her back. Melting into him, she slid her eyes shut when he pressed his cheek to the back of her head and left it there. It was her own hands that undid her robe and parted it, so that he could slip it from her. The fabric fell at their feet, unheeded. 

Carefully, as if she would shatter, he stroked his hands down her arms, across her waist, beneath the simple cotton of her top. His fingers were warm on her skin, and she drew in a short breath as they skimmed the hem of her pants. Traveling, they flattened against her stomach, molded the flare of her hips, and withdrew. 

The air was surprisingly cold when those same fingers deftly undid the buttons, stripping away the cloth so that her bare back was visible to him. Still, he didn't touch her. He knelt, pressing his lips to her spine where it joined with hips. 

Heat and pleasure had her turning. The appreciation in his expression was unmistakable, and his eyes held her until he brought his lips to her again, using his tongue to lazily trace the circle of her belly button. 

The tickle of his breath had her wanting to laugh. So she did, liking the feel of it in her throat and his hands on her skin. 

Sinking, she drove him to his knees, and felt something tear away inside with the connection. Perfect, like being fused together with heat. 

They fell back in a tangle of limbs, hands roaming and lips seeking. Fumbling in mutual anticipation, they pulled at clothing until there were no longer any barriers. Bare skin met, and it wasn't clear whether the murmured sigh was from one, both, or just a recognition of coming together, and an awareness of what a man and woman could create between them. 

Her fingers weren't skilled, but they weren't clumsy either as they smoothed along his skin in wonder. She smiled when he sucked in a breath as she brushed them over his ribs, pressed her palms to the flat of his abdomen, and slid lower. Where her hands went, her lips followed, and still, she didn't think she would be satisfied. Wufei was giving her freedom touch him, to admire the beauty of him, and she wouldn't have stopped, had his hands not closed gently over her wrists and flipped her over in a single, painless move. 

A smile, simplistic in its meaning, complicated in its beauty softened his features, robbing them of that remote, almost harsh expression he usually wore. It wasn't that she was anything so ridiculous as stunned, it was only that she had never noticed before quite how appealing he was. 

Settling down next to her, unmindful of the roughness of the carpet, he rubbed his thumb across her lips and watched her with an all-consuming concentration. Relena didn't have an appearance that floored a man or made them stare after her in absentminded admiration. What she possessed, was an elegance, a confidence, and a loveliness that wouldn't fade the way physical gifts would. 

"You are beautiful," he murmured, tracing the curve of her breast. She was soft and pale, the color and texture of silk. 

Pleased, she laughed. "Had that come from anyone else, I would have labeled it useless flattery." Touching his face, she sighed when he turned his cheek and pressed his lips to her palm. 

Drawing his thumb lazily across her nipple, he saw her eyes flutter shut as her mouth parted on another sigh, before he shifted and lowered his head. The taste of her was addictive. Sweet, with a hint of soap and a whisper of something female and secret. So this was what it was to truly want... 

Using his lips only, he touched her here, on the underside of her breast, there, on the inside of her thigh. Behind her knee, the arch of her foot, the curve of her elbow. Places he was certain no one else had ever noticed. It was when the ache grew that he lay his head against her stomach to regain some composure, before kissing her and coaxing her to rise. 

"Better not to make love on the carpet. Rug burns," he added against her lips. 

She couldn't resist teasing. "Oh, is _that_ what the bed is for?" 

Wufei took her hands, pulling her to her feet, and they stood, the lines of their bodies blending with the shadows, with each other. It was Relena again who led, and they fell onto the mattress, quietly appreciative of what they felt and what they made when they lay together. 

As he moved over her, she brought her arms up and welcomed the press of his weight. He didn't ask her if she was certain, and she didn't offer him the chance to pull away. Relena knew what she wanted. Wufei knew what he needed. 

Still, they stayed as they were and there was something in Wufei's expression... 

"What is it?" 

"Protection," he answered, sedate. 

Confused, she was about to ask him what he meant, when it came to her. "Oh! Well..." 

"This is what happens when things are not planned." 

"Don't lecture me, Chang Wufei. _You_ were the one who showed up at my door in the middle of the night," she reminded him, but her tone lacked the heat and bite of an argument. 

A flash of teeth, and a hint of mischief broke the severity of his expression. "I will walk to the store in the snow, if need be." 

Touched, because she thought he was half-serious, Relena shook her head. "No, wait..." And she twisted out from under him, rolling onto her stomach to reach for the nightstand beside her bed. 

Wufei followed the arch of her backside where it tapered into the slender lengths of her legs. Considering, he pulled himself closer as she rifled through a drawer and gave into the compulsion to touch. He was satisfied to feel her quiver beneath his hands. 

"There!" She announced in triumph, waving a single foil package and shutting the drawer. But not before he saw that she had multiple boxes. 

"Multiple boxes?" 

Flushing, taking in his raised eyebrow and obvious amusement, she pressed her hands defensively to her chest. "I had to give a speech on safe sex. They were passing out bags full of products and someone shoved boxes of condoms in my hand. It would have been wasteful to throw them away," she added, scrambling up onto the pillows as she raised her chin in a way he was beginning to become familiar with. 

His laughter was warm and irrefutably male. "Practical of you." 

"Stop making fun." 

"I apologize." He reached for her. 

"I don't believe you." She went into his arms willingly, liking how his face went still with need for her. 

"Hm." He touched her breast. 

The package fell from her hand. He took it, opening it to slide what was inside on. It was an interesting sort of torture. 

She opened her arms, accepting, and he shifted, pinning her beneath him. 

The pain was there, a flash, and then gone with his lips on her brow, soothing, warm, and patient. The heat burned, built, and she became aware of everything. His skin, warm on hers; the feel of him inside of her; his eyes, his dark, endless eyes pulling her in. 

His fingers settled on her hips. There was something inherently gentle in his face, in the touch of his fingers on her skin. Lost in the knowledge of that, she reached for him and he began to move; one careful, slow thrust. He pulled back, moved in, and filled her. Shivers, hot and cold tore across her skin and she spoke his name restlessly. 

She couldn't have known what it cost him to be gentle. The need was such that it closed around his lungs like a tight fist, robbing him of air. When he could breath, she was all there was. 

They created a rhythm. They murmured words tangled, lost, and not understood. Blankets weren't needed as skin, slick and hot, slid over skin. Lips met, pulled away, and met again. And they climbed together, reaching for something felt, but not known. 

It was later in the night while Relena slept beside him, that he pulled sheets across them and folded her to him. Content, he watched the swell of her breast as it rose and fell beneath the white of the cotton, closed his eyes, and slept with her. 

Clasping her gloved hand in his, Wufei helped Relena up the steep incline. They walked together across what might have been a path, disturbing the untouched snow and a few wandering birds. Relena liked the quiet of the afternoon and the ease with which Wufei drew her into the pocket of his shoulder when they stopped. 

"Have you ever wanted to come back?" 

Memories, fragmented whispers, came to her as she stared down at the place of her birth, a kingdom she had once been forced to give up in order to save. 

"Sometimes. But not to rule. I took over the Sank Kingdom to begin with because it had been Relena Peacecraft's heritage. I was the Queen of the World because I had no other choice. I became Vice Foreign Minister Darlian because it was where I could do the most good. Most people think it was to honor my adoptive father only..." Here, she shrugged as if to say people would think what they would. 

He nodded. "That was why I became a Preventer." 

"We're fighters, even after the wars are gone." 

"The wars are never truly gone," he disagreed. 

Relena touched her hand to her chest. "Not in here." 

Silently agreeing, he looked out over what the Sank Kingdom had become with her support, but not her leadership. He doubted the people would forget what it was like to watch their world collapse around them anymore than he would the explosion that had claimed his colony. Some things stayed with you without regard for passing years. 

Relena's eyes were shadowed and removed when he turned back to her face. She was lost in her own private memories, ones he would never have asked to be a part of. There were also some things you kept to yourself, no matter what it cost. Still, he wondered if in time, they would stand this way with memories between them that they had created together. And he wondered as well if he wanted it to be that way. 

Nine years had passed. Thoughts, feelings, wishes but mere tokens of a youth gone since she had first looked into Heero's determined eyes as sharp as glass, hard as flint, and filled with a maturity that had, at that moment, been beyond her. Perhaps she might have hoped for a different outcome on several levels, but what came before molded what was now. She knew she wouldn't have given up the effort and pain it took to reach it. 

All parts of it made her the woman she was, and had given her Wufei. So she would look back, but she wouldn't regret and she wouldn't waste her time. 

"Why are we here?" She wondered, her tone hushed. 

"To remember." 

"I don't need to remember. I've done enough looking back, and I think, so have you." 

"I know I have," he admitted. "I can't promise I won't again." 

"I don't need your promises. They're easily broken." 

"Then I won't give you the words." 

Slipping from his arms, she took his hand. "Then, come on. We have other places we can be." 

She hurried them down the slope and lost her balance. It was Wufei's waist she grasped for an anchor, finally taking them both down, though she privately thought Wufei offered less resistance than he should have. He teased her about her lack of coordination. She bullied him into making snow angels. It made her laugh to see a grown man so flustered over waving his arms in the snow, and he retaliated by kissing her until the cold no longer troubled her. 

It was, Wufei considered, the least aggressive mark either of them had made and even he was hard pressed not to admire the simplicity of their forms in the snow. Hers small and light compared to the bulk of his. 

Snow angels. The irony wasn't lost on him, but Relena held his hand again, and her expression was forgiving, innocent, much like the snow, as if she too were as untouched by everything she had seen. It didn't matter that she wasn't. He only cared that she offered him the chance to have what he hadn't been unable to understand before time and experience had aged him. 

The peace and stillness in his face when he turned to her was enough to lay to rest some private fear, some tiny ache that maturity, responsibility, and age hadn't smothered. Whatever he chose to move on to when the time came, she at least knew that he would be with her for now. It would be all she could have. Not reaching for the impossible, asking for forever. 

Who wanted forever? Life was bound to keep on, and people to grow old and pass away. Together, or apart, that wouldn't change. 

But it couldn't hurt to dream. 

Fin 


End file.
